


Perfectly Abnormal

by mischievousmoonhunter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Fluff, Friendship, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 23,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischievousmoonhunter/pseuds/mischievousmoonhunter
Summary: Alexis, the bastard daughter of Clint Barton, struggles to overcome the aftermath of the fight against Ultron. While she helps Pietro Maximoff to settle down into his new life, their relationship flourishes, even though the past keeps getting between them. Alexis has to work hard as she tries to balance her life “at home” with settling down into the Avengers’ life.





	1. Chapter 1

There are certain things you cannot think of separately, which are inevitable connected in your mind; the sun and moon; yin and yang; Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. The Twins had been inseparable from the moment we had first met. At the time, we had actually been enemies, so they were a double threat; “enhanced” crazy people; freaks. At least, that’s what my teammates had thought. But I, as youngest of the team and bastard daughter of Clint Barton, felt compassionate towards these outsiders. And, to be honest, I was a bit intrigued by them; the hardship they had undergone had not twisted their constant love for each other, only strengthened it instead. After they had found out about Ultron’s true intentions, and I had convinced my teammates to accept their change of sides, we had grown quite fond of each other.   
Naturally, it isn’t easy being friends with two people who are so closely connected to each other (apart from the fact we were in something of an ongoing war against a maniacal robot slash artificial intelligence). You often become a third wheel, and you have to be okay with that. Also, you have to be able to ignore your father’s comments about “those kids having a bad influence on you”.

Luckily, I’m incredibly good at ignoring those things I don’t want to hear.   
Not seeing the truth, however, is a bit harder - unseeing it, impossible. Especially if that truth is your father carrying the limp body of your newfound friend, or her brother’s agonising scream. Or how he sank to his knees, grasping her cold hand.

A crippling sort of disbelief rushed over me. My father looked at me, exhaustion haunting his eyes. He moved on, stepping onto one of the last rescue-pods still waiting for us. Pietro didn’t seem to realise the world around him was falling apart.   
Many people were still screaming and crying, begging for someone to prevent the city from falling. They were praying in vain; nothing could prevent this city from crashing to the earth. The end could only be delayed.   
‘Pietro! Pietro, please! Come on!’ A cloud of ash and dust swirled up into my lungs. I coughed loudly, temporarily prevented from speaking. ‘We need to get away!’   
It was difficult to speak and not burst into tears. Though when I knelt in front of Pietro, to face him, I encountered such a hollow look, I felt like I had no right to grieve.   
‘Pietro, please,’ I begged him more urgently. ‘We’re going to die if you stay here.’   
Another major ripple surged through the floating earth. It knocked me off balance, and I grabbed Pietro’s arm to hold steady. At last, this got his attention. He looked up, still that awful dead expression on his face.   
‘I already did.’

I let out a single sob. ‘Come on!’ I grabbed Pietro’s hand, tugging as hard as I could. It seemed my desperation returned some sense to him.   
‘Alexa…’ he blinked, as if he woke up from a deep slumber. ‘You need to get away.’  
‘I know,’ I said grimly, ‘but I aint gonna leave you here.’   
Somewhere in the distance, beyond the clouds of dust, someone called my name. Some of the vapour subsided, revealing Clint staggering back. Everything about him made clear we were running out of time. Drastic measures seemed the only remaining option.   
‘Now my dad’s coming too. So, you either get up, or we go down with the city. It’s up to you.’  
A bit of panic flared in his eyes. It was unfair to force this decision upon him, but it was the only way I could think of to get him to come with me.   
‘I don’t want to upset the old man.’   
Understandably, his usual smirk was missing. Fortunately, Pietro still got up. Just as his knees left the dirt, a major shock almost knocked him back down. Even more unexpectedly, he grabbed me, swinging his arm underneath my legs and started running before I could react. The outside was reduced to nothing but patchy colours, and all senses were cut off by sharp, angry winds.

Pietro’s full speed was an awful experience, causing me to dry heave after he put me down again.   
‘Alexis, are you okay?’ Clint had reached the ship after us.   
Was I okay? He needed a short answer, so I gave a weird shrug-nod. ‘I’m not hurt.’   
I turned around. Wanda lay on a long row of seats, with her face white – even paler than usual. The scared civilians kept their faces averted, as if that would solve the problem. I was very tempted to try it.   
‘I’m so sorry, Lex.’  
‘Me too…’   
My father hugged me, and I let some of the sobs get out. Pietro sat alone, clamping his sister’s hand. His head was bowed down, and his shoulders shocked uncontrollably. This was a moment he needed alone. There was nothing I could do.

Maybe time would help him heal, or at least reduce the hole now wrought in his chest. Though the return of his heart brought all new dangers along. A threat which would paralyse me in between him and the father who was holding me protectively.


	2. Chapter 2

_What the hell was happening?_  
Thor, Natasha, Steve; all of them were stumbling around, staring into emptiness. They were all trembling faces, shaking fists, and bodies fumbled against the wall. The once impressive group of heroes had been reduced to an assortment of zombie-like figures.   
‘Guys? Guys?!’ Nobody responded to my alarmed call. ‘GUYS?’   
‘Calling them is useless,’ informed a soft eastern European accent me, only inches away from my ear. I tensed and intended to turn around swiftly, my bow loaded and ready to take down any threat, but all the breath was knocked out of me. There was movement around me, though I couldn’t move myself. I couldn’t even see. 

_‘What are you waiting for?’_  
At first I didn’t realise some of my senses were coming back. Then I noticed another unknown voice had come near me.   
‘Not this one. Not her. She’s too young.’  
‘We are barely older, Wanda.’ The annoyance was clearly of a boy, who came from the same place as the girl who had turned me into a lifeless doll.   
‘Exactly.’  
The heavy pressure fell off my brains, and I sank to my knees, gasping. White spots drifted across my vision. Due to the dim listening all around me, it took even longer for my pupils to adjust.   
‘Who- who are you?’  
Having inhaled some oxygen, I was able to look up. A boy and a girl stood there. The girl had pale skin, dark hair, and strange, dark eyes. The boy had whitish-blond hair and electrical blue eyes. They seemed on edge, tense, lonely, strangely secluded from the world around them. There almost seemed to be a protective barrier between them and me, or perhaps it was only the fierce look in the boy’s eyes.   
‘I’m Wanda Maximoff, and this is my brother Pietro. You do not-’ the girl put a step forward. But now I had regained enough of my consciousness and awareness to pick up the bow I had dropped, and hurl an arrow from my quiver. The girl stopped, without any trace of fear on her face.   
‘Arrows?’ Scoffed the boy. ‘Really, arrows?’  
‘Don’t worry,’ I grunted, ‘I have guns too.’   
‘Really?’ the boy smirked, and held up a gleaming weapon. ‘Like this one?’  
Involuntarily I padded my hip, from where I knew he had stolen the weapon. I gave him a murderous glare. ‘Give it back.’  
The fair-haired boy inched closer.   
‘Why?’ he taunted. ‘Does it have emotional value?’  
My jaw tightened. To be honest, it did have “emotional value”; it was the gun Clint had given me when he began training. True, the gun training had mostly been done by Natasha, but it was still Clint who had given me the weapon.   
‘Pietro,’ chided the girl.   
‘What?’ the boy – Pietro – shrugged innocently. ‘She is the enemy here.’  
‘No. That is what I-’ she was cut off when a figure erupted from the dark and pressed something to her forehead. The girl collapsed, only barely caught by her brother. The figure was my dad.   
Clint grinned grimly. ‘I’ve done the whole mind control thing. Not a fan.’   
He kept his bow in the ready, but Pietro only glared at him, before he disappeared in a flash, with his sister in his arms. ‘Yeah, you better run.’ Then Clint turned to me and helped me get up. ‘You okay? Did they hurt you?’  
‘I…’ I frowned, and put the bow down. ‘No… they didn’t…’  
Clint kept observing me for a while, with a look as if I would collapse, or attack him. I tried to give him a reassure smile, which turned into a painful grimace. Apparently Clint was finally convinced I was fine, or something close enough, for he pressed his finger on his earpiece and looked around. ‘Whoever’s standing, we gotta move! Guys?’  
Again, no reaction, tough this time I was too consumed by my own thoughts to notice.   
They had let me go. They had had me in their fingers, I had been on my knees. Nothing but their mercy had saved me. Two people who worked with a villainous, murderous robot who wanted to kill us all, had spared me. It made no sense.   
‘Alexis? If you want, you can stay.’  
‘Huh?’ I was startled from my conflicted thoughts. Clint was about to move on, so he could pursue Ultron. ‘No, no! I can come.’  
I grabbed my bow a bit tighter, and watched everything a bit closer. But despite the anger and rage of my team, I doubted if I could let go of the arrow if I faced the Twins again.


	3. Chapter 3

Wanda was lain to rest in a small graveyard between proud Sokovian trees. It seemed like a peaceful place to rest; a bit cold, perhaps, but the leaves were richly coloured, and the pine trees spread a pleasant smell. The stone itself was deep red, honouring what had been special about her. Now she lay there, between the people of a nation she had given her life for. It felt oddly little for such a hero. But they wouldn’t know, the world wouldn’t know; no more than a grave among many.   
Not for us, though. The team and I were the only guests present at this private goodbye. I could tell it was hard on everyone; in the heat of battle you can’t really dwell on all those you can’t save. Only in moments like this we really noticed the damage, how much was destroyed in the attempts to save people.

The Avengers were huddled together, avoided each other’s eyes. Clint, along with me, stood a bit apart, close to me, protectively, and a bit awkwardly. As if he didn’t really know what to do. Moreover, I thought I heard him open his mouth a couple of times, but he never spoke a word.   
Pietro was standing a couple feet away, ducked, staring down at the coffin. This time no tears rolled down his cheeks. It was the alarming nothingness that had come back.   
I gave Clint a meaningful look and gestured towards the lonely boy. He nodded and let his hand, which previously had been wrapped around my shoulders, slid beside him - though I thought he did it a bit reluctantly. Then I approached Pietro, as carefully as if I was approaching a hurt deer. Rough gravel crunched underneath my shoes.   
‘Pietro?’   
No sign I he had heard me, or even noticed my approach. I wondered if he perceived anything around him at the moment – it seemed as if he was giving in to the hole in his chest. A chasm made when his heart was ripped out.   
Very slowly, I reached out my hand. Just before I could touch him, a swift gust of wind disturbed my hair. I blinked. One moment, the solid shape of the boy was standing there, the next moment, the spot was empty.  
Pietro had gone.

Thankfully, Pietro had accepted my offer to live with us, at the facility. So at least I could make sure he took some care of himself. Especially since it turned out he didn’t if I didn’t persistently attend him to it.   
The first weeks I practically had to feed him. I knew he didn’t sleep, or comb his hair, and only took a shower if I forced him to. Every morning I went to his room with breakfast, every day at noon I brought him lunch, and every evening I came to him with dinner. He didn’t speak, barely even looked at me when I came in. He never argued when I told him to take a shower, nor did he react in any other way. When approximately two and a half months had past, I’d had enough. It pained me too greatly to see him like this.  

With part of my mind still in sleeping-mode, I came down early to prepare Pietro’s breakfast, and of course my own. On top of that I had slept terribly, reliving the worst moments of my first real battle – the fight against Ultron. Sometimes I couldn’t believe how intend I had been on finally joining “the adults” in the field. Especially considering how I screwed up – losing the friend I had just gotten to trust me.   
Apparently I wasn’t the earliest bird, since Natasha was already perched on the couch, scooping chocolate cereal drowned in milk from a bowl with little orange and blue fish painted on them.   
The tiny eatable rings lost her interest when she noticed me. ‘You look terrible,’ she noted with a caring worriedness. ‘Shouldn’t you sleep a bit longer?’   
I shrugged. ‘Nah, I’m just gonna make breakfast.’   
Natasha nodded understandably, so I shuffled along, listening to the soft clanks of the metal spoon against the porcelain bowl. How I wished Pietro would eat his breakfast this easily. And on top of that couch, thinking about things beside his loss.

Abruptly, as I was halfway to the kitchen, I swirled around, and grasped my sleeves.   
‘Nat?’ Within seconds she put down the bowl, and gave me her full attention. ‘How long can I let him mourn?’  
Natasha shook her head lightly, and gestured for me to come closer. ‘This isn’t mourning, Alexis. He’s drowning.’  
‘But why?’ After I had already let it slip, I realised how heartless it had sounded. Had I not suffered loss myself? Yet, I thought defiantly, I hadn’t locked myself up inside my gloomy room for two whole months. Admittedly hadn’t I had the time to do it either – not when I had gotten the letter. ‘Then why doesn’t he just ask for help?’  
Natasha smiled sympathetically. ‘We are often too stubborn and sunken in our sadness to think about anyone outside ourselves. Besides, he was unprepared.’  
‘Unprepared?’ I curled my legs underneath myself and sat down, desperate to understand this.   
Natasha bit her lip thoughtfully. The dimmed LEDs gave her face a soft glow, while the outstretching sunrays from the rising sun made her hair seem on fire.   
‘When you came here, you told me your mother had known she would die for a long time, right?’   
I nodded. Of course she had, almost since the moment the first diagnose was made we had known she wouldn’t make it. Telling Natasha had been tough, though, especially seeing how my mum had passed not long before. Somehow, I had trusted Natasha enough. Which had been a good thing too; I had found an amazing friend and mentor in her.  

Now I understood – or so I thought – the logical conclusion dawned on me. I looked Natasha in the eye, kind of hoping the confirmation is sought wouldn’t be there.  
‘I have to really talk to him, haven’t I?’  
The Avenger next to me smiled again, and gave me an encouraging squeeze in my hand. ‘It’s the best you can do.’


	4. Chapter 4

I knocked on the door. As usual, I received no reaction. First I sighed, straightened my face, then I entered.   
It was dark inside, with all the curtains closed. That’s what I did first; open the curtains. I found Pietro sitting in one of the windowsills, looking outside with empty eyes. His strange blue eyes followed the little dots that were cars and people.   
‘I brought breakfast,’ I said with false cheerfulness. Every morning it lost a bit of its veracity.    
Pietro didn’t react. Not today, not yesterday, not any time. It was that exact moment something cracked inside me.   
‘All right, that’s ENOUGH!’ I didn’t shout, though it took a lot of me not to. ‘It’s been enough. I understand you miss her, but-’  
‘Do you?’ He had said it quietly. However, after not hearing him speak for ten weeks, no voice had ever startled me this much.   
‘I-’  
Very slowly, Pietro rose his head. ‘Well, do you?’  
‘Pietro,’ I pleaded, ‘I’m sorry. Of course I have no idea how you feel. Still, and forgive me for saying this, Wanda would not want you to act like this, this… zombie you’ve become.’  
Within a blink of an eye, Pietro stood very close. His face was inches from mine, his lips were curled in an almost animal like growl, though strangely deprived from emotion. ‘You don’t know what she would want. She is dead.’   
Normally I wouldn’t have been scared of someone standing this close, super speed or not. But something in Pietro’s face caused my heart to miss a beat.   
Yet it didn’t freeze me; it gave me energy to continue what had been started. ‘I understand that I cannot read minds, nor have I ever been even remotely as close to her as you were,’ I stated very slowly, in an unduly patient voice. ‘But if there’s anything I knew about her, it would be that she didn’t die hoping you would spend the rest of your life depressed in your room!’  
Finally, emotion flared in his eyes; anger coursed through him. ‘Shut up,’ he grunted through gritted teeth. ‘Shut UP! You have NO idea how I feel! If I would rip out your heart, you would not want to walk between infuriating happy people!’  
I winced when he flashed past me, the burst of wind tousling my hair. I spat out a strand.

The plate of breakfast still stood where I had put it when I left the room, in case he returned. I returned to the living room myself. Natasha still sat on the couch, and looked up to me when I came in. ‘Was that Pietro?’   
I nodded glumly. ‘Yeah. I think he doesn’t like me much.’  
Natasha tilted her head compassionately. ‘He’ll calm down. At least you got him out of his room.’  
I snorted. ‘I got him out of his room, all right.’   
A dark felling settled in my stomach. Would he come back? Or had I chased him away, angered him so much he hated me?   
The sun glimpsed between the trees surrounding the facility. Breakfast seemed a terrible idea now, revolting even. Seeing, however, how I had intended to catch up on some overdue training, I needed some nutrition. Not that I hadn’t trained these last weeks, but my concentration had been off. I should probably ask Natasha to join me, so I wouldn’t “cut corners”, so to speak.  
‘Hey, Alexis.’ Natasha was standing right next to me. I hadn’t even heard her come; proof of my terrible alertness. She put down the bowl next to the sink. ‘It isn’t your fault, okay?’  
A little bead of lead rolled down my throat and it settled itself with the dozens of its kind.  
I shrugged. ‘Sure.’ Nothing about that answer sounded convincing. Nor could I wipe the worry off my face, so lying was useless. Lying to Natasha was useless anyway, I had found since I had first come to live with her. How she did it, I wasn’t sure, but she seemed to have the same emotion sensor build in her brain as my mum had had. Perhaps even a more advanced model.

When Pietro didn’t come back that evening, the dreading realisation struck that my fears may not be just fears, and that he may not return. Wherever he could go was beyond me, or where he should find himself some money. At that I laughed at myself; Pietro didn’t need any money. No cop or shop security could hope to capture him.  
Seized by disruptive worry, irritation and anger I stayed up, pacing around my room. I vexed at how I got here. I tended to do that almost every day since… since. Would it have happened without my help? Was I to blame? Did they blame me?  
Fretting about something I had no control over exhausted me, so at last I had no choice but to lay down, and pray Pietro would return the next day.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Alexa…’  
I gasped. Before I even opened my eyes, I had grabbed the revolver from underneath my pillow, loaded it, and aimed it at the intruder.     
‘Whoa, Alexa. I didn’t know you would be so angry.’ Pietro was smiling sheepishly at me, his eyes showing signs of redness. The corners of his mouth trembled slightly. The gun didn’t seem to faze him. Instead his eyes avoided mine, though seemed to be compelled to look at them at the same time; the reaction he should have had to the gun. Definitely not at my face.   
‘What?’ I smirked, unloading the gun. ‘Just because I want to shoot you, you think I’m angry?’   
‘Not just that. Also because I yelled at you yesterday.’ He shrugged and, with a look of shame and guilt, looked down at the tray he was holding – alerting me on its presence.   
‘What’s that?’   
He held it out, again with an awkward smile and shrug. ‘Breakfast?’

Indeed, on top of the plastic tray balanced a tall glass of orange juice, the surface wiggling dangerously close to the edge of the glass, two pieces of toast with different toppings and a hardboiled egg.   
Altogether such an adorable sight, I chuckled. ‘Why? I thought you didn’t do eating?’   
Pietro reached up to his fair hair and ruffled it unconsciously. ‘It’s a “sorry”, actually. For being a jerk.’   
‘That’s not necessary. You’ve got the right to be a jerk.’  
‘Then it’s a thank you,’ Pietro declared stubbornly. ‘For taking care of me.’ He saw I wanted to protest again, and continued quickly, ‘and please, I want you to eat it. Please.’  
The excessive use of pleads did it.   
‘Sure,’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘If you sit down, and talk.’  
‘Ehr, sure.’ With the uttermost embarrassment, he complied. ‘What should I say?’  
After taking a sip from the freshly squeezed orange juice, I gestured at him. ‘Why did you come back?’  
‘Because you were right, Alexa.’ He took the little spoon he had brought so that I could eat my hard-boiled egg and twirled it so fast between his fingers, that I could barely see it anymore.   
I smiled softly. ‘You know that’s not really my name, right?’ But I didn’t mind. The way he pronounced his version of my name brought me a strange kind of pleasure.   
‘You were right…’ Pietro repeated. ‘Wanda would not want me to mope in my room. She would scoff me for being pathetic…’   
His voice trailed off, and I nodded, sympathetically. I would have reacted, if my teeth hadn’t been busy processing the cracker with cheese and tomato Pietro had made for me.   
‘Is it good?’ He asked pretty lamely. It was so unlike the boy I had first met, I flashed back to our first meeting. Then Pietro had worn an almost constant scowl; he had been filled with this insatiable longing for revenge, and a painful hope of change.   
But after Wanda had rendered the Avengers useless with her mind-powers, and she was just about to make me go mad, she stopped, causing me to drop to my knees, dizzy. Something she saw made her spare me the fate of my comrades. Whatever it was, it had helped pave the road to the twin’s redemption, their chance of joining The Avengers. It was then when Pietro had returned the gun, with a little scoff.   
“Here you go, arrow girl. Wanda said I should give it back.”

Fierce light reflected off the cutlery in Pietro’s hand. I squinted. Startled, Pietro let go of it. With a gracious arc, it hurtled against my bedside lamp, producing an oddly clean “Ping”.   
I chortled, almost choking on my orange juice and spluttered laughing. To my great delight, Pietro joined in. While I couched loudly, the glass slipped between my fingers. Next moment, Pietro was holding it.   
‘Let’s get that out of here,’ I laughed, brushing crumbs off my shirt. ‘Before I can clean my entire room.’

Thus, we moved downstairs, Pietro first waiting outside my room so I could put on something warmer, where I watched as he washed the plate.   
‘So, so,’ I commented, ‘you seem awfully normal when you do that.’  
‘Really?’ Suddenly, Pietro sped up, and the suds splattered everywhere. ‘Do I still look normal?’  
‘No, now you’re just annoying.’ Nonetheless, I chuckled, and wiped the bubbles off my brow. ‘Though if you tried, I bet you could look more normal. Just have patients, my friend.’  
The plate clanked when Pietro put it on the kitchen counter. ‘I can be patient if I want to.’  
‘Yeah, sure,’ I scoffed.   
Pietro frowned. ‘Honestly.’  
‘O, yeah… I believe you.’ Sarcasm dripped off my voice. ‘I bet you can’t even walk to the mall with me – at my pace.’  
‘I…’ now he seemed baffled. ‘How far is that? No, no! I can do it!’ he urged, when I laughed at his dubiety.   
‘All right, then. Prove it!’


	6. Chapter 6

‘You’re going extra slow! I know it!’  
‘O, no. I am going on a very normal pace.’ I gave Pietro my most innocent smile, which might have been a bit devilish. He might also have been a bit right. ‘This is a very good lesson for you, Pietro. Just taking it slow, like normal people.’  
‘But you’re not normal.’ The moment he’d said it, his eyes widened in shock. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-’  
‘Don’t be. I know.’  
‘O…’ Awkwardly he swung his arms. ‘So… where’s the old man?’  
Did he realise he had just started a conversation about an even more awkward subject?  
‘At the farm, with Laura and his family.’ I shrugged, as if I didn’t really care.   
‘Who’s Laura?’  
‘His wife.’ I kicked a rock down the sidewalk, sending it flying. Perhaps I had hit it with a little bit too much agitation.   
‘So… she’s not your mother?’  
‘O, gosh, no.’ I had still not managed to regain my fake-smiling skill. ‘Dad made me a long time ago.’  
To my great surprise, Pietro seemed to slow down. ‘Did he… cheat?’  
‘No, he would never do that to Laura. It was something of a one-night-stand, really. He didn’t know I existed until after my mum died.’  
‘I’m sorry.’   
Surprised I looked up to Pietro. ‘O, I’m okay, really. I’ve been lucky with a dad with connections to an “organisation with many living locations”. It’s made finding housing a lot easier.’  
‘Yeah,’ some vague, nod/shrug that was a way to give an answer with some sort of meaning, ‘I can imagine.’

***

_Now the girl’s weird mind trick had worn off, my teammates were at least responding again. They still stared into blank space, however. I sat near Clint, who was flying the jet, so I had a great view of everybody on the flying contraption.  
I listened absentmindedly to Tony and agent Hill, who were video calling and discussing Bruce and his aftermath. I felt genuinely bad for the guy; it couldn’t be easy, loosing yourself over and over again, waking up to destruction. Today had been especially bad. I wondered how much the Stark Relief Foundation could make up for - the city would be rebuilt, sure, but the people were not likely to forget this any time soon. _

_‘Hey, you wanne switch out?’ Tony suggested as soon as he ended the call with agent Hill._  
I turned my head a couple degrees, just enough to see Clint shrug. ‘No, I’m good. If you wanna get some kip, now’s a good time, cause we’re still a few hours out.’  
‘A few hours from where?’ Tony sounded curious. I didn’t blame him; I shared his desire to find out where we were going.   
‘A safe house.’ Apparently he didn’t feel like elaborating. Not that it was necessary; the word “safe” was good enough for me. As long as safe meant no killer robots, or strange boys and girls who could overpower and hurt me all too easily, yet not doing it for some weird, unknown reason. A real bed would also be nice, some food, perhaps even a shower.   
I decided to follow my father’s advice, and snuggled inside the jet’s chair. The murmured voices of the team became my background lullaby, until I had fully drifted to sleep. 

_I awoke when the Quintet reached the ground with a steady bump. Judging from the startled reaction from at least half of the others, most of them had been sleeping as well._  
When Clint let down the tailgate, he awarded us with a view on the strangest sight: a peaceful sloping meadow of light green grass, speckled with some flourishing trees. Straight ahead stood a house, a farmhouse, made of creme coloured wood. It even dared to have a porch.   
Clint took the lead, beckoning us forwards. Very slowly the team came to action, reluctant to leave the safety of the jet.  
Thor swung his hammer uncomfortably back and forth. ‘What is this place?’  
I completely understood his discomfort; when you have just escaped some dingy hole of an arms dealer, an idyllic home straight from a fantasy seems awfully suspicious.   
‘A safe house,’ Tony, who was walking next to me, put forward.   
Clint glanced backwards, and I got the uncomfortable feeling he was especially looking at me. ‘Let’s hope.’


	7. Chapter 7

_I halted a couple of feet from the happy wooden building. All the Avengers seemed stunned and full of disbelief. I, on the other hand, was downright frightened. Because I had a feeling what we would find inside, which meant I wouldn’t be a welcome visitor. I watched as Thor, Bruce, Steve, and Tony stepped through the door, all of them with varying degrees of astonishment on their face. They all seemed utterly out of place, especially Steve and Thor in their peculiar outfits - or uniforms._  
‘Let’s follow them,’ Natasha said softly in my ear when I had stopped.   
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think I should be here, Nat.’  
‘Of course you do. We all need a safe house.’ She tried to gently push me forwards, but I dug my heels into earth.   
‘I think I know who’s in there… I don’t want to… ruin anything.’ I kicked against a small, rounded pebble, sending it flying. A soft thud occurred when it hit the front of the porch.   
Natasha smiled softly. ‘You won’t. She already knows. Laura is an incredible woman.’  
Desperately I looked around, trying to find a way out. Very quickly it dawned on me there wasn’t; we were being hunted by a swarm of killer robots. No one could know about our whereabouts. Judging from the looks on everybody’s faces, no one would know about this place. I sighed, surrendering.

 _When Natasha and I finally joined the rest, Clint was kissing a woman with a swollen belly. He turned around, and smiled. There seemed to have fallen a weight from his shoulder, or perhaps he had found something to support him as he carries the weight. ‘Gentlemen, this is Laura.’_  
The woman gave us all a kind-hearted, incredibly motherly smile. ‘I know all your names.’   
We all shuffled restlessly on our spots. I tried to hide behind Thor, who was the tallest. I kind of wished Bruce was Hulking out right now, so no one would pay any attention to me. Because I had noticed how everybody was sneaking glances at me, probably trying to decide what to make of this, and my place in it. Thankfully I was temporarily saved from the embarrassment when two small children rushed into the room.  
‘Ooh, incoming.’ Clint smiled as the two children, his children, ran up to him. He picked the little girl who squealed “Dad!” up and beamed brightly. 

_I then had to watch this small, adorable family reunion. The team, except for Natasha, just stood there, watching, frozen in surprise. It turned out Natasha was also part of this family as “auntie Nat”. Somehow that stung, though I wasn’t exactly sure why. Naturally it was… weird… to see Clint like this, but Natasha…_

_Eventually it was Steve who spoke first - of course to apologise. Why else?_  
‘Sorry for barging in on you.’  
Tony wasn’t exactly as graceful. ‘Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed.’ Secretly, I fully agreed with this statement.   
Clint looked back up, some of the excitement his children had inspired seeping away. ‘Yeah, well Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off SHIELD’s files, I’d like to keep it that way. I figure it’s a good place to lay low.’ He glanced at me, with a kind of apologetic shrug. As if to say: “Sorry for not telling you that there is this other family I have, so you’re not my only child and I actually have a beautiful, living wife and adorable children.”   
I simply looked away. Before I could accept any apology, I would have to figure out how I felt about the whole thing.

_Bruce requested a place to shower - quite understandably, considering he had just wrecked half a city, and therefore must be quite “dirty” - while Steve and Tony went outside. Thor had already sneaked off, no doubt to some magical kingdom. Natasha got dragged away by the little girl, though she did have the courtesy to smile apologetically before she left me alone with Clint and Laura. She probably thought it would be “best” if we got some alone time. Humph._

_It said it all that it was Laura who had the courage to speak first. ‘So, you are Alexis?’_  
No trace of any hostility, no trace at all. There was so much kindness in that one question, it brought me off balance; I had expected anger, or at least irritation. Since we stepped into this wonderful home I had braced myself for a full-scaled step monster attack (I had figured she was my stepmother, though it felt incredibly weird to think of her that way).   
‘Yes. Hi. Alexis… that’s me. You have a… great home.’ I cringed at my own attempt at an ice-breaking compliment, and felt myself age several years in reverse. Suddenly I was a twelve-year-old girl, who had to join a new school, and wasn’t exactly sure how to fit in, or how to make people like me.  
‘Well, Clint,’ she said with a wonderfully genuine smile, ‘you didn’t tell me she has your eyes. Though Nat did tell me she looks like you.’   
Clint allowed himself a relieved grin. ‘I don’t know about looks, but she certainly knows how to shoot an arrow. I’m afraid it won’t be long before she beats me.’ These compliments obviously were a thousand times better than mine - and a thousand times more meaningful. I managed to mumble something of a “thank you” before Laura put an arm around my shoulders, and guided me to the bedrooms.   
‘If you’re all sleeping here, some of you are gonna have to double up. So, what do you say about you and Natasha sharing a room?’  
I let out a deep breath in relief; I wouldn’t have to sleep with one of the children. ‘I would like that very much, Mrs Barton.’  
‘O, please,’ she softly squeezed my arm, ‘call me Laura.’


	8. Chapter 8

An old green Volvo drove by with the windows rolled down, pumping rap music down the street. A loud voice catcalled me, yelling profanities to overpower the other profanities blaring from the stereo of the wreck of a car. What exactly he wanted me to know so badly I couldn’t even recall, though the rage it provoked was similar to a flamethrower’s heat.   
Reflexively I reached for my hip, but Pietro put his hand on mine. ‘Let me.’

He cracked his neck, and gave me one of his little smirks, which somehow made me really happy. Within a blur he was back, just in time for me to see the pretty scratches, spelling: “I’m an asshole”.   
‘Beautiful,’ I chuckled, ‘you even spelled it correctly. I bet he couldn’t do that himself.’   
Pietro grinned proudly. ‘Wanda always said I’m good at writing!’   
It took a couple of seconds to sink in. When it did, I felt it fall down. Wanda. Yes, Wanda. Pietro felt it too; his shoulders slumped, his face fell. The guilt resurged. I watched the great silhouettes of the mall rise on the horizon. The building was mostly made of glass - something which always made me imagine how it would look if someone would shatter all the windows. I envisioned a rain of crystals, glistening the sunlight in a thousand rainbows.

‘But I proved it, didn’t I?’ Pietro had pulled himself together again, and gave me a meaningful look. Please let’s pretend that didn’t happen.   
Within seconds I switched to the same joyful tone. ‘You cheated, though.’  
‘Hey!’ Pietro grinned despite his indignation. ‘It was for a good cause!’  
I shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’  
It had been for a good cause, hadn’t it? It had been to save an entire city. How could I have known…  
I shook my head. ‘I’ll condone it for now. But, see here,’ I spread my arms to indicate the enormousness of the building in front of us. ‘A place where normal people go - the mall!’

‘Tadah!’ As the sliding doors swiftly opened, I presented the vast swarming mass of people with wide arms.   
Pietro looked around curiously watching at the variation of bright colours, fonts, and lights. 'So, this is it, the American Mall?’   
'Well it is a mall yes. And it is in America- but if it’s the Mall…’   
Pietro nudged me. Gleefully he faked staggering when I returned the gesture, and whizzed away before I could even roll my eyes. I still did it when he returned, not seconds later with his hair all tousled up. A firm blush had risen to his cheeks giving him a rosier appearance than usual.   
'Can we go to the food court? It smells-’ He noticed my unimpressed smirk. 'Oops… sorry?’ He said sheepishly.   
I chuckled and shook my head, not believing this was happening. Seeing his muscular posture outlined against the glass window of the H&M, his head tilted slightly to the right. It seemed surreal. 'All right Einstein. What did it smell like?’   
Immediately after I set foot in the direction from which he had come, he was yet again next to me.   
'Einstein?’ He looked cross-eyed to a little strand of hair hanging directly between his eyes. 'Oh…’ He pulled his fingers through his light hair, not making it the least bit better. Probably only worse.   
'Food court?’ I reminded him. On the inside I was glowing of amusement as Pietro struggled with his hair.  
'Right. Food. O, yes! It smells like doughnuts!’   
'Doughnuts?’   
'Yeah! They- O, look!’   
My head jerked back as Pietro pulled me to the side. My arm yelled indignantly - but Pietro had already tried on three different pairs of sunglasses. 'This one is cool! No this one!’ He grinned at me, his sparkling eyes hidden behind reflective, black glass. 'Here.’ He put a pair of obnoxiously big glasses on my nose. I almost couldn’t see my face when I glanced in the mirror.   
'Wonderful. Though I think you should try this one.’ I snatched a pair of pilot sunglasses from his hands and replaced them with a pair of mustard coloured glasses rimmed with rhinestones in ten different colours.   
'Perfect!’ Pietro exclaimed, grinning at me from behind the cashing obstruction.   
It turned out this shop had dozens of different ugly sunglasses, most of which we tried on. Eventually we both found a pair of reflective cool glasses.   
'I feel like a spy with those,’ Pietro told me. I laughed and retrieved my wallet from my jacket. 'I’m sorry I can’t pay-’ Pietro began but I shushed him before he could move on   
'I can’t pay either. This is Tony’s.’ I showed him the shimmering credit card. I shrugged. 'I think he pities me.’  
'I think he just likes you.’   
‘What?’ At that moment, it was my turn. I let the card pay the sunglasses, thanked the girl behind the counter and left with the protective spectacles in pretty boxes.   
'And now,’ I announced, 'doughnuts!’

I could hardly remember a moment like this, of peace and tranquillity, normality. The people around us were all talking and munching down on various sources of salt and sugar. They laughed and gossiped, all eager to know about Becky’s new boyfriend or Nathan’s new job. It was… different.

'Can you remember it, normal life?’ Pietro asked, almost as if he was reading my mind. A little stroke of icing had been left on his nose. How it got there I had no idea.   
'Barely. I have never been a normal kid, though. With my mum, and all. Even before that, I’ve always been weird.’   
Pietro studied me. I wished I could read his mind right now. What was he thinking? Did he think I was whining? Complaining about being different? Because that’s absolutely not how I had meant it.

'These are good doughnuts,’ Pietro noted with a strange gleam in his eyes.   
I nodded. 'Curtesy of Tony stark.’  
We laughed, looked around, and ate. I especially enjoyed the one with chocolate on top and little pieces of dark chocolate sprinkled to finish it.   
A question rose in my mind. How would Tony feel if he saw me like this? Would he feel good like you do when you give a homeless person food and he’s happy with it? Or happy that he could help my father out who was already supporting a wife and three children?   
I shook my head. Bad thoughts. Not for now.

'So, what’d you think?’   
Pietro scanned the view around us. 'It’s fun. Though I wish the escalators would be a little bit quicker.’   
'Wow…’ I gave him my best “are you kidding me” face. 'Tony should make a treadmill even you can’t outrun. Seeing you fall on your face would be great.’   
Now it was Pietro who smirked. He thought it the most dignant solution to take a large bite, smushing his upper lip with whipped cream.   
'You know, I think I’m gonna take some for Nat and anyone who’s at the facility.’   
'Does that include me if I get hungry?’ He gave me his best lost puppy eyes.   
'All right then.’   
He gave me the brightest smile.


	9. Chapter 9

As we arrived back at the facility - after a long way of Pietro buzzing one way and then the other - we met Steve in the process of leaving.   
‘Hey Steve! Doughnut?’ I held the lid up. Steve, surprised, almost walked past me, taking one of the creamy pastries at the last possible second.  
'Thanks. How’re doing Alexis?’   
'Good. See you!’  
And out he was. That’s how meetings with the team members often went; only swift fleeting talks. It was a shame, though. I liked them. Many times, I wished they’d have more time off - until I remembered that’s how we got into the whole Ultron-mess in the first place.

'Hey, Nat! Want a doughnut?’   
'Yeah, of course!’ Natasha grinned and picked exactly one of the kind I had enjoyed the most. 'How was the mall?’ (Before we’d left I had told her where we were going - just to be certain if anything happened, she’d know where to find us.)  
'Great! Look, I bought these cool sunglasses.’ I showed them to her by modelling them. She told me they looked great on me. I flustered happily, and mentioned Pietro had cool ones too. A bit awkwardly he put them on his nose, and they exchanged some politeness. Afterwards, Natasha told me she would make a little fancy dinner for that night; apparently she had some time on her hands. I let her know how much I liked the idea and that I would practise now.   
'Sorry,’ I added to Pietro. He shrugged and told me it was okay.   
'Don’t work too hard!’ Natasha teased, a slight frown between her eyebrows.   
Pietro watched, looking lost, as I exited. I felt guilty for leaving him there. But I had no choice - I had to keep practising. Don’t they say practise makes perfect?

During those first few dinners, the awkwardness was quite noticeable. Natasha, Pietro, and me, all around the table. Neither of us really knew in what direction to steer the conversation, though I was impressed at Natasha’s constant efforts to keep conversation going. Less impressed and more confused I was by her behaviour during our training sessions. She had suddenly picked up the habit to give me a dozen compliments per exercise, telling me how well I was doing, and how much I’d improved since we’d first started.   
Pietro hung around the compound, probably trying to explore it at a normal tempo, but often failing to “stroll”. We hung out a couple of times, making insecure small talk. The times we did have a good time together was when we held movie nights with the Avengers. As always Natasha was there (I was starting to feel like she made some kind of deal with Clint to babysit me or something - why else would she choose me over missions?) and Sam was present for many of them, even Steve turned up for a couple and Tony made his entrance when we watched the entire Star Wars series.   
I often glanced at Pietro, who kept himself in the background, but also seemed to relax more and more. Sometimes he would smile, and suddenly lose it, as if he had been hit by a cold shower. Although he seemed overall more positive. He even laughed loudly when Tony pushed me over after I’d asked him why he hadn’t made any lightsabres yet.   
'Is the bow not enough?’ He asked melodramatically. 'Have I not given enough?’   
'It’s all right Tony,’ I grinned, patting him on the back. 'You can’t do everything.’

Seeing them leave over and over again could be hard, though having them over so often - making the facility livelier in the process - was one of the things I liked most about living there.

'Have you seen the pamphlets for the fair?’ Natasha asked one night. We were eating a lovely plate of spaghetti with pieces of chicken, and a slightly spicy sauce. Even though I like hot food, my body doesn’t always react well to it. So, while simultaneously enjoying the dish, I drank big gulps of water between bites. Pietro chuckled multiple times, and had already commented softly on my “tomato cheeks”.   
'No, there’s going to be a fair?’   
Natasha nodded. 'Tomorrow. There are going to be rollercoasters and other attractions. I thought you guys could go.’   
I gave Pietro an inquisitive look. He nodded, shrugging.   
'Well, I don’t know. Pietro could barely stand the escalators - maybe It’ll be too much for him to handle.’   
Pietro smirked. 'I think you are afraid of them Alexa.’   
I snorted. 'Sure. We’ll see about that.’   
'That’s a yes then?’ Natasha smiled.   
I nodded, and gave Pietro a softer look. 'Yeah, we’re going.’

Thus, the next evening we set out on another little adventure. This time we took the bus on the way there, so Pietro didn’t have to suffer for too long.   
We arrived at an enormous field, transformed into a chaos of stalls, attractions, flickering lights, all types of food smells and people. Especially a lot of people.   
'Look,’ I told Pietro, 'they’re about to open the roller coaster. If we’re quick…’ Then I realised how far we still were from the entrance. 'Damn, we’ll never get in.’   
Next to me, Pietro wobbled from foot to foot. 'I could get us there in time.’   
My eyebrows almost left my face when I looked at Pietro. 'While carrying me, you mean.’   
He dared to smile a bit embarrassed when he shrugged. 'Unless you want to climb on my back.’   
I seriously considered it for a split second until I realised that would most likely be even worse.   
'Hell, why not.’ I wanted to get into that cart really badly, and it definitely wouldn’t be for long. I held my arms up awkwardly, so Pietro slide behind me and lift me up. He did it quite carefully, not touching me any more than necessary.   
'Ready?’   
'Not really…’  
Pietro chuckled and off we went. Immediately I experienced a strong emotion: regret. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten how terrible it felt to move across half a football field in a matter of seconds - probably even less.   
'Are you okay, Alexa?’ Pietro asked worldly when I had to seek support with both of my hands on my knees after I had been put me down again.   
‘I will be,’ I breathed, inhaling gallons of sweet-salt-deep-fried air. 'Come on!’ I pulled him at his sleeve towards the cards booth. It opened the exact moment we arrived. The lady behind the glass received the money, and I could sit down satisfied at the front of the train.  
'Do you think this is a good idea?’ Pietro asked while he drew down the protective guard.   
'Sure,’ I shifted position so my but wouldn’t hurt after the ride. ‘I won’t puke.’   
Pietro didn’t seem quite convinced.   
‘Do you need me to hold your hand?’ I teased.   
Pietro shook his head, but didn’t answer. With a little smile he moved in his seat, though instead of moving away, his leg now rested against mine. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’


	10. Chapter 10

The whole ride was a pleasant thrill, a thousand times better than one of Pietro’s “rides”. To him it probably wasn’t that exciting, but I did see him smile when we rounded the corners and I waved my hands in the sky like everybody else.   
‘See,’ I said proudly as we got off the ride, 'I didn’t throw up.’  
'I noticed,’ Pietro answered dryly. 'Perhaps I should carry you a bit further…’ He bent his knees, pretending to scoop me up again.   
I laughed a bit shrilly and moved quickly out of the way. 'Better not - Oh.’   
'What?’ Pietro followed my gaze towards the giant teddy bear I had spotted. 'That is a big bear.’   
I nodded very slowly, a wide grin spreading on my face. 'Yes, yes it is.’

We moved over to the stall where a middle-aged guy was checking one of the riffles used for his game.   
'Hello, doll,’ he greeted me with a little bit cringy smile. 'Is your boyfriend here gonna win you something?’   
In return I gave him my sweetest smile. 'No, I’m gonne win him something.’   
I could see the man’s eyes light up. The dollar signs were almost visible, along with the thought, “There comes the money”. Poor guy.   
He handed me the weapon, unnecessarily explaining how to hold, aim and fire it. I casually asked him what I would have to hit to win the teddy bear.   
His grin widened, and he pointed to a small target in the far back which he could put in motion just like the rest of the brightly coloured spots. With one push on the button everything started to dance in every possible direction. The furthest target moved fastest of all.   
I held the gun steady, focussed on the moving object, felt the soft breeze of the wind.   
My finger moved very slowly, until the trigger was drawn back.

***

 _After everything I had read, heard, and seen of the Avengers, I hadn’t thought I would ever be bored while living with them. However, I hadn’t taken into account that they had actual stuff to do - like, all the time. There seemed to be a lot more threats in the world than we, the civilians were aware of._  
The quiet times granted me many hours of concentrated reading and watching. But no matter how much I loved those things, I had also always very much enjoyed exercising. So, during one of my by boredom induced half-comas (I just lay back on my bed staring to the ceiling), I gathered my courage, and decided to find the exercise room, which obviously had to be here somewhere.   
It turned out to be nice and spacious. Like everything else in the compound, it was illuminated by sunlight streaming through the immense windows and it contained many different ways to improve various skills, from treadmills and other sorts of gym equipment, to a long shooting range and places to train in hand-to-hand combat. Or gymnastics, I thought, snickering to myself as I imagined the Avengers in tight gym suits making somersaults and swinging from rings. For some reason, there was a cabinet titled “punch balls”, as in a whole cabinet stocked. I didn’t think you needed that much of those.

 _My eyes weren’t enough when I stepped into the display room for all the different kind of weapons the Avengers used, many of which were personalised. I decided it would be wisest to stay away from the guns, but I couldn’t help taking a simple bow and a quiver, weighing the weapon in my hands. It felt good, a bit too wide at the handle, but almost perfect. Never before had I shot an arrow from a bow, if you didn’t include one of those crappy plastic ones with rubber suction pads so they stuck to the windows._  
I took a movable target with many red and white circles within each other, and put it against the wall outside the protective shooting range. It was unlikely that I would damage anything, and if I did… no, I just wasn’t going to do it. (I was wondering if anyone would get mad at me, or if they all felt too bad for me and would just ignore it.)  
There were no instructions about how to use any of the gadgets, so I just had to dig deep into my memory, and retrieve the images of Clint shooting this thing. With this in mind, I readied the arrow on the string, and pulled it backwards. As I let go of it, it flew wobbly through the sky, and dug itself into the outer ring, which gleamed red.   
‘Okay,’ I muttered to myself, ‘could be worse, could be better.’ With my head slightly tilted, I studied the arrow, trying to figure out how it had flown. I calculated how far it had deviated from the course I had anticipated and then tried to see how I could improve it.   
Again, I loaded an arrow onto the string, aimed at the bull’s-eye, and released. This time, it landed a bit closer to the centre. A tiny bit.   
It wasn’t much yet, but I’d get better at it, I told myself. I liked doing that, teaching myself. Whenever I wanted to try drying new, I would just find a good spot to watch from, and see how others did something, and recreated it myself. 

_‘Natasha was right.’_  
I looked back, the string of my bow still vibrating. It was Clint who had spoken, standing awkwardly in the doorway.   
‘Oh, hey.’ I lowered the bow, curled my fingers tightly around it. ‘Right about what?’  
Clint gestured to the target, where the arrows were all within the middle half, instead of scattered on the outside. One even managed to impale itself into the middle dot, though not in the centre. ‘You’re good. Have you had training before?’  
‘Training?’ I repeated, a bit lost. ‘No, not really…’   
‘A natural then?’  
I shrugged. ‘I’ve just had a lot of time on my hands.’  
My dad nodded, finally fully entering the room. ‘I could train you if you want.’  
My cheeks flushed immediately, turning a bright red colour. Training with Hawkeye? Spending more time with my dad? Finally experiencing advantage from my weird skills?   
‘Yeah, that would be cool.’ I cringed at my fake chill voice.   
Clint smiled relieved. ‘Yeah, cool.’

***

A shot ran out, and a perfect hole could be seen in the exact middle of the most difficult to hit target. The man’s cowboy hat seemed to drop in astonishment. After a while he regained the ability to move, whereupon he turned the movement off and grudgingly handed me the bear.   
'Your father’s in the army or something?’ He asked me as I wanted to leave.   
I grinned. 'Something like that.’

The plush bear was the softest thing I had ever felt, and its smile was kind and forgiving. So, I stared into its eyes for a moment, before holding it out to Pietro. 'Here’   
Pietro looked frowning at the stuffed animal. 'What?’   
'Here,’ I repeated. 'I won it for you.’   
'Oh…’ he took the bear and ran his fingers through its fur. A gentle smile appeared on his face. 'I thought you were just saying that to contradict that man.’   
'O, no. I thought your room could use a big teddy bear. Otherwise it’s so empty.’   
'Thanks.’ A slight blush creeped up on his cheeks. I laughed at its endearingness   
'You’re welcome.’

We spend the rest of the evening eating corndogs, cotton candy, popcorn and visiting booths and stalls. Pietro convinced me to let someone paint a butterfly on my face, so I forced him to do the same.   
Finally, we stepped into the Ferris wheel, and let ourselves be carried up to the stars. The view was amazing, especially with all the lights, turning the night on the ground into a second sky full of stars   
'I love high places,’ I sighed, peering into the distance, where traffic still razed on the busy roads.   
'I think they’re okay. As long as they are safe.’  
Pietro looked tired. His eyes were slowly closing, and he clasped the teddy bear tight.   
'Don’t worry. You’ll always have Danny to break your fall.’ (Danny was the name we had decided together best fitted the toy.)   
'Thank God.’ He took one of the chubby arms of the bear and pointed it at me. 'Danny doesn’t want to be a safety pillow,’ he said in a squeaky voice 'Danny’s feelings are hurt’   
'Sorry Danny,’ I laughed, 'I will never refer to you like that again.’ I sat back in the small bench, looking at the world of puppets below us, and I was grateful for the slowness of the wheel. This was something even Pietro didn’t mind spending a lot of time on.


	11. Chapter 11

Apparently Natasha had appointed herself to finding things for us to do. This time she got us tickets to the skating rank in the city. This time we also didn’t hesitate - we immediately locked eyes and grinned; I could see Pietro thought he would be the better skater of the two. I feared he was right.

How come our relationship had improved this much? Well, it all came down to the moment after our nightly excursion Pietro snuck up on me while was practising my bow and arrow skills.

‘Boo,’ he whispered, no more than an inch from my ear. Reflexively, I jerked my elbow back to propel myself forwards and turned around with the arrow pointed straight at his head.   
'How often are you going to stick one of those things in my face?’ Pietro asked, taking a step forwards again (he’d had to take a step backwards to doge my elbow), grinning. For the first time I could again see the boy I had first met; the amusement, the cockiness, the sly smile.   
'As often as it is needed.’ I relaxed my arm and put the arrow back into the quiver slung across my back. 'That is, as often as you annoy me.’  
Pietro tilted his head. 'You know you will not hit me, right?’  
'You don’t know my powers, Pietro.’ I faked swinging the bow at him. Pietro didn’t flinch; instead, he stopped it in mid-air and brought his face a bit closer to mine. The air became static.   
'I do, I was there at the fair, remember? And I will never forget that man’s face.’ His light eyes gleamed.   
'So, you’d let me shoot at you?’ I dared him We tended to dare each other a lot, I realised. Probably because we could dare somebody for a time, instead of trying to blend in.  
He seemed to think about it. Then, to my surprise, even though it shouldn’t have been, Pietro inched even closer, and agreed.  
'Sure.’

I didn’t give him time to rethink that decision, instructing him immediately to stand a couple feet away, face forwards. I did, however, switch to a quiver pilled with stump arrows, which were also not made from metal, but a more rubbery substance.   
'Ready?’ I squinted my eyes in concentration, pretending to aim directly at him, while actually trying to calculate where he would be going after I let go of my first arrow. If only I could shoot enough arrows one after another… One should hit him, right?  
'Go ahead, Alexa!’ To show off his confidence he rose his spread arms.   
There, I let go of the first arrow. Not a second after it had shot through my fingers, I had taken a new one and a new one. But a second was way too long; Pietro was zooming around, dodging the arrows with little effort.

When I had emptied my quiver over and over and over again I deemed it time to stop. I hadn’t hit Pietro once, though he padded me encouraging on the back. 'I’ll let you try again, tomorrow.’   
Annoyed and amused, I grumbled.  
Pietro laughed. 'Such a humble acceptance of defeat!’ Fairly, he let me nudge him between the ribs.

And thus we found ourselves more and more in the training room improving our talents and learning new skills. Natasha was greatly enthusiastic about it, and suggested I would teach Pietro some of the moves she had taught me a long time ago.   
So, if I wasn’t training with Nat, I was “training” with Pietro. Hitting him, or even grazing him with an arrow became my new purpose in life, helping me improve my speed and reflexes.   
During hand-to-hand combat I learned quickly how to use Pietro’s speed against him, by redirecting his momentum, usually towards the ground.

Against all expectation, my moment of glory came: I hit Pietro right in the side of the head.   
'Auch.’ He stopped dead in his track, looking downright stunned as he rubbed his painful head. It took me a couple seconds to process what that meant.   
'I did it,’ I mumbled, as surprised as Pietro was. 'I did it!’ A wide grin broke out.   
Pietro seemed to have gotten over his surprise, and smiled back at me. 'Yes, you did!’   
'I did!’  
I threw my arms in the air and made a little dance of pure joy.   
Pietro watched with an amused smile, mixed with something else I couldn’t place.   
'I bet you wanted to become “princess of thieves” when you were younger.’ (We’d watched that movie together, not very long ago. Pietro had had to instruct me not to comment every time someone misused a bow.)  
I shook my head, starting to put away all the stuff we’d used today. 'Detective, actually.’   
Suddenly a heavy weight settled in my stoma as I remembered how badly my mum had wanted me to pursue this dream. How close was I now?  
'I would certainly want you fighting beside me during a war.’ He took the target I had used for some starting shots and put it away.   
With me, this comment left a sour aftertaste, especially since I had started going down this negative spiral. Memories of me talking passionately to Wanda by images of Wanda’s lifeless body froze me.  
No, I thought, nobody seems to blame me, right? Let’s not ruin this great moment.

'Do I get something for being right?’   
'Mmm,’ Pietro had to think about that one. ‘Sure. I’ll buy you a coffee and muffin with Tony’s card.   
I laughed. 'Al right, but only because I have already shot you in the face.’

Now, back to the thing about skating. Even though Pietro didn’t get cold that quickly, we decided to first go shopping for hats, shawls, and gloves. After pulling down each other’s hats at least half a dozen time each, we were ready to mount the ice.   
'I think we look cool,’ I stated, watching us in the mirror at the store.   
Pietro nodded, the woollen ball on top of his head dancing along.   
'Well then, let’s go to the ice!’


	12. Chapter 12

Pietro was wearing that little cocky smile of him. He was quite certain of himself.   
‘You smug little shit,’ I smirked at him, while he was waiting impatiently. ‘I bet you are some miracle skater, aren’t you?’  
Pietro shrugged. ‘Not really. I can’t remember when I skated last. But you know, I am quite good at moving.’  
I stuck out my tongue. ‘I can’t remember either. Yet, unlike you, that doesn’t make me eager to do it.’

‘Come on, Arrow-Girl.’ The moment I had finished tying the laces, Pietro grabbed my hand, and hauled me onto the ice faster than I could register. One moment I was sitting upon the wooden bench, the next moment we skirted down the ice, and fell, hard on our butts.   
I cried out, and punched Pietro in the shoulder. ‘Idiot! You can’t just run down a rink!’  
‘Oops.’ Pietro grinned playfully. ‘My fault.’   
Characteristically, he hadn’t learnt anything from this mistake, and tried to get up just as quickly. I laughed my head off when he smacked down again. When he had tried to get up like three times in a row, I could barely breath.   
‘Stop, stop!’ I gasped, dabbing the tears of laughter off my cheeks. ‘Pietro, please!’  
He did so, grudgingly.   
‘Look,’ I said, getting up quite demonstratively. It was a bit wonky, but I made it. ‘See? Slow and steady, that’s how it works.’ To prove my point, I made a little circle around Pietro, who was still sitting on the ice.   
‘You probably just have better skates,’ he muttered under his breath. The comment had not been meant for me, but seeing I had inherited my father’s keen senses, I heard him nonetheless.   
‘Definitely. Just how you’ve got magical shoes to run fast.’ I beamed at him, and held out my hand. ‘Come on. Let’s get you on your feet.’  
‘I thought you didn’t know how to skate,’ Pietro complained. Though as I pulled him on is his feet, he clinched his hand around mine, holding on even after he had almost straightened upright.   
‘You really need to learn how to be patient,’ I chuckled.   
‘Just teach me how to skate, Alexa.’

That took a bit more from me than “just”, as I had to skate many feet backwards, so Pietro could get forwards. Early on I realised his problem was that he tried to walk, instead of actually skate. To help him get the leg motion right, I got him one of those metal contraptions for children, which would allow him to focus on only his feet, and not on keeping his balance.   
He was really trying, so it didn’t take too long before he could stand on both of his legs all by himself. Although he had a whole different opinion on that.  
‘Alexa, your hand, please, your hand!’ He reached out desperately wobbling back and forth.   
‘Why, it’s going great!’ I encouraged him, trying hard not to laugh.   
‘Please!’  
I shook my head, though took his hand nonetheless. Pietro let out a sigh of relief when his hand enclosed around mine.   
‘Come on,’ I urged, ‘let’s make a round.’  
Pietro moaned softly, shovelling his feet to move forwards.   
‘Don’t shovel! Glide!’ I showed him the wider foot movement, pulling him forwards. At first he spluttered indignantly, until the muttering died out. When I looked next to me, I could see the concentration on his face. His patience and determination where cute, and effective. Eventually, we soared across the ice together.

Contrary to being in Pietro’s arms while speeding, skating while going faster than humans should be going was one of the most amazing experiences I had ever felt. The faster we went, the tighter Pietro had to hold me. Somehow, I didn’t even mind.   
The moment my heart almost stopped, was when Pietro grabbed both of my wrists and twirled me around. I may even have squealed due to the dizzying motion. Strangely, Pietro’s abnormally blue eyes almost gave light as we grinned at each other.

The big problem was how to stop spinning. No way would I try to do it by letting go or sticking my skate into the ice.   
‘How do we stop?’   
Pietro shrugged, pulling me even closer. Every inch we neared each other we seemed to speed up. The outside was reduced to a swirl of colours, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to prevent getting sick. Eventually, we slowed down at last, until we were almost standing still. I felt my ankles wobble, before we toppled over. Giggling I reopened my eyes, and saw how Pietro’s hat had fully dropped down to the top of his nose.   
‘Seeing much?’   
Quickly, he pulled the woollen contraption off his head. ‘Great view.’   
‘What?’ I laughed.   
He shook his head. ‘Never mind.’ He looked around, and took something off the ice. He studied it, and my inners froze over. I knew what it was. ‘Hey,’ he noted, ‘it’s got your name on it!’  
Rapidly I snatched it from between his fingers. ‘Thanks,’ I uttered uncivilly. Immediately I put the letter back into my pocket, from which it must have fallen.   
‘Sorry…’ Pietro seemed a bit shocked and affronted. Then he apparently decided let it go. ‘Want to go for a cup of hot chocolate?’  
Happy with this changing of subject, I nodded, and smiled extra warmly to compensate for my previous behaviour. ‘Gladly.’


	13. Chapter 13

_Soft rain hit the top of my head and mixed with the tears on my face. The drizzle moistened my hair and clothes without really affecting my skin much. Perhaps I had been sitting there too long, and thus become unaffected by the cold.  
No one had found me yet, so I could sit by myself, without being send away; I had passed a sign reading I shouldn’t be here. People thought it was dangerous, but the height couldn’t scare me, and the roof was the only place solitude was guaranteed. My legs dangled down, swinging softly in the wind.  _

_‘Miss Kane?’ I was almost startled off the roof. It was the same nurse who had picked me up from the waiting room. She seemed utterly scared, with her dark eyes drawn to edge. Her fingers with tended nails grasped a scrambled and splotched envelope. ‘Miss Kane, could you please come away from the edge?’  
The rebellious teenager within me wanted to boldly exclaim: “no”. The girl my mother had raised, however, and whom she had taught manners and universal humanity, nodded, and rose slowly. When I swirled my legs up, the nurse gasped. _

_‘Uhm, what can I do to you?’ To do the woman a favour, I came very near to her, so she stood in the doorway, protected from the rain and her fear._  
The nurse pushed a little strand of her thick black hair back away from her face. Fizzy from the damp air it curled up. Her entire hand was shaking - a combination between a fearful tremble and a cold shiver. ‘I- ehm, I found this. It has your name on it. Here.’ She handed the scrunched envelope. It indeed had my name on it, in a loopy handwriting I recognised as my mother’s.   
‘Thank you,’ I stammered. The fact that this little encasing of paper held words written by my mother shocked me deeply.   
‘Hunny, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but please, come back inside.’ She smiled carefully.   
I nodded. ‘Okay.’ I actually didn’t plan on doing that, but I saw how it reassured her. 

_After the nurse had gone, I returned to my place on the “near-to-death” spot. The height gave me the same reassuring feeling retreating to the corner of a room gave me. Everything was so small, nothing mattered. Cars were like ants, and people were like grains of sand._  
At this moment, the scribbles in my hands were a thousand times more important than anything in the entire world.   
They were so important, I could barely open the envelope. However, I had to do it. She wanted me to read it. Whatever had been so important she had struggled through writing it, in her terrible state of mind – it was obvious she had been weak, for her handwriting was scratchy and almost unreadable, even on the outside, as she wrote my name. And if there was anything she had written hundreds of times, it was my name – I must read it.   
So, with shaking hands, which had nothing to do with the cold or the danger I was in, I unfolded the paper. 

_My dear Lexy,_

_I regret having to write this letter at all; this is something I should tell in person. But I’m afraid I won’t remember this – I can’t remember a lot lately. So, here it comes: I think I know who your father is. Even though I’ve always said I don’t, because I didn’t, honestly. Now I am almost 100% certain._  
You probably don’t want to hear or read this, but I hope you’ll at least try to meet him.   
O dear… I’m afraid to say this, even without looking you in the eyes. Here we go: The guy who calls himself Hawkeye - his first name is Clint.  
Now you think I’m delirium. Just keep reading, okay?   
I recognised him on TV. When I met him, he didn’t want to tell me his last name, or what he did for a living. But he gave me the bracelet I always wear. I put it in the envelope for you. Maybe you want to throw it away, or you want to keep it – do whatever you want.   
If you look at this man and then in the mirror, you will see the similarities. You have his eyes; your hair is also his colour. Perhaps you won’t believe me. I wouldn’t blame you.   
Know that I think you’ll get along with him. And that I want nothing but for you to have someone when I’m gone.  
So, my dear Lexy, I love you. I haven’t said it often enough. I love you. You are my everything. You are a strong, young woman, and you will get through this. But there is no shame in asking for help or to follow your dreams.

_Again, I love you,_

_Karen Kane – Your mother ;-)_

_Ps. He didn’t know about you, or at least, I never saw him after those wonderful few days. We met and just clicked. When he left, I felt both horrible and blessed I’d had those hours with him. Having you after felt like a miracle. Maybe he doesn’t even remember – I at least do, because he gave me you._

_My fingers were frozen by the chilly wind. I hastily turned the envelope upside down. A small, thin, shiny bracelet fell into my lap. It was the same one my mum had worn as long as I could remember. However, it was not until now I saw the minuscule arrow in the middle. Suddenly, my eyes burned even worse. Trembling I attached it around my wrist. How could she ever think I wouldn’t keep it?_  
The letter, however… the letter enraged me.   
A father? Why would I need a father? I had had a mum, and that was enough! Maybe he didn’t know about me, or maybe he did – it didn’t matter. I didn’t need him. I could take care of myself.   
I thrusted the letter off the roof, and followed it with furious eyes as it fluttered down. There. It was gone. I could just forget about it. 

_The cold surprised me as I stepped through the door. The parking lot in front of the hospital was packed, not a single car could fit anywhere. That didn’t really matter to me, as I planned on taking the bus, whose stop was a few feet away from the entrance._  
I clutched the bag with my mother’s belongings, even though the only thing that mattered was the bracelet I now wore. Something white hanging from a nearby tree caught my attention. I frowned, and examined it. To my surprise, it was the letter I had dropped. Somehow it had found its way onto my path again. I sighed and rolled my eyes.  
Nonetheless, when I walked past, I reached out for some reason, grabbed the damaged piece of paper and muffled it into my pocket. Maybe I would read it again, just to remember my mum. No way would I do what it asked.   
Right?

***

I insisted on getting the cups, and requested extra whipped cream and marshmallows on top. The mugs where gigantic and extremely hot, burning the sensitive skin of my hands.   
‘There you go.’ I put the mugs on the table and plopped down in the seat next to Pietro. The seats were covered in thick fabric stuffed with what felt like clouds. My behind sank down into the cushioning - it was pretty comfortable, actually.   
‘Thank you.’ Pietro pulled one of the cups closer, and tried to take a sip, burning his tongue and jumping backwards.   
‘You okay?’ I chuckled. ‘There’s a bit of whipped cream on your lip,’ I pointed out. It formed a white moustache like Santa’s. He rubbed it away, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. I reached in my pocket to stow away my wallet, and felt the crinkly paper of the letter. Again I felt the guilt of my rudeness, and frowned as I tried to decide what to do.

‘It’s my mum’s,’ I blurted out. ‘She gave it to me.’  
It took Pietro surprisingly little time to figure out what I was talking about. ‘The letter,’ he said softly.   
I nodded. ‘She wrote it only days before her death. That’s how I knew Clint might be my father.’ Should I say more? About my mother, and my life before, or my relation with my dad? It was not that I didn’t trust Pietro… I just didn’t like talking about my feelings. ‘So… I’m sorry I was so rude.’  
Pietro smiled gently. ‘It’s okay, I get it.’ A short silence, the clearing of his throat. ‘Let’s enjoy the moment?’ There, he gave me a way out. A way to pretend it hadn’t happened.   
Very thankful for the opportunity, I took it. ‘Great. Though it’s quite a cold moment, to be honest.’  
‘Really? Well, I can take care of that.’ Rapidly, he put his arm around me, and pulled me closer. I protested half-heartedly, feeling my hair become a mess.   
‘At least you are warm,’ I muttered, as he released me again. I wiggled a bit closer to him, minimising the gap between us.   
‘What can I say? Increased metabolism.’ He shrugged, cheeky smile on his face.   
I smirked. With two hands cupped around the mug I pulled it closer. Warm condensation tickled my face. Something else fluttered inside me.   
I did what he had suggested; enjoying the moment. Very, very much.


	14. Chapter 14

As the days grew colder, the Avengers seemed to come over more and more often, especially in the evening, when we sat together, a drink in the hand, maybe a couple of snacks on the table. Mostly talking, sharing stories. They all had incredible tales about their missions, so we could stay clear from painful back stories.   
Some of us, like Tony, had a lot of stories to tell, even about his pre-Iron Man time, aka when he was just a rich… well, not such a pleasant guy. Others, like Steve, had to listen to a couple stories before they started sharing, even though he had some impressive world war 2 stories.

‘You know, Alexis,’ Sam addressed me, after he had entertained us with a cool story about his army-life. It had featured his deceased friend, Riley, but he seemed to remember it fondly, instead of wallowing on his death. I had always admired Sam, the way he always kept his head above the waves, while also always being kind. ‘Steve once told me about the time you came here for the first time. I just don’t know if it’s all true.’  
‘Is it that good of a story?’ Pietro asked curiously.   
‘It’s a typical Alexis story,’ Natasha contributed with a grin, showing she remembered it as well as I did.   
‘It isn’t that good,’ I protested weakly, ‘but I do want to tell you, if that’ll prove it.’  
‘Great.’ Pietro said, an encouraging smile on his face. His interest seemed genuinely kind.  
‘All right.’ I put down my bottle of soft drink. ‘Y’all gonne get my story.’   
As I settled myself back on the couch - next to, and quite close to, Pietro - I noticed I wasn’t anxious to tell this part of my story at all. Sure, most of them had lived it, or otherwise already heard it, but still I felt more comfortable than I had ever felt speaking to a group of people – especially about personal stuff.

‘How did I get here? Well, it started a while after my mum died. She’d left me this letter,’ I realised it didn’t hurt as much as it normally did to think about this, ‘explaining to me she had recognised Clint on TV, because she’d never known who he really was when they, uhm,’ I snorted, ‘ “dated”. I wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t influenced by the medicines, of course, but it was all I had. So, I walked up to Stark Tower with a picture of her in my pocket, and rang. They wouldn’t let me in, of course, even when I said it was urgent. It was very rude.’ That got me a soft clattering of chuckles and snorts. ‘But then Nat came back, and let me in. I’m actually not really sure why?’ I looked questionably at Natasha.   
She smiled. ‘I noticed she looked like him, and I thought “Clint, what have you done?”’ she shook her head.   
I was stars struck for a moment. I hadn’t realised people actually thought I looked like my dad. I had always just assumed it was something people liked to say to children to make them feel better.    
‘Yeah. And I walked up to him, holding up this picture of my mother I had taken with me, and asked him; “do you know this woman?”’  
Pietro laughed unbelievably. ‘Just like that? No context?’  
‘Nope,’ I said proudly. ‘I think I startled him a little, so he kind of involuntarily told me he thought he did. He took his time staring at me and the picture, though.’ I added thoughtfully.   
‘And then?’ Sam prodded me to continue my story. ‘I want to know this part.’  
‘O, well,’ I said airily. ‘I just asked him if he’d had sex with her.’  
‘What?!’ Pietro exclaimed, while all the others laughed. ‘Did you really ask that?’  
I grinned. ‘Yes. I needed an answer, so I wasn’t going to dance around it on my tiptoes.’  
‘What did he say?’  
I shrugged. ‘He said he might have. Then I responded with: “Great. You’re probably my dad.” After a simple DNA test, it was certain: he was my dad.’

I picked up the bottle again, and took a long sip.   
‘You know,’ Sam said, ‘that was actually pretty brave.’  
‘Brave?’  
‘Yeah, you didn’t know if it were true, but you came.’ The others nodded. I felt a little bit embarrassed, I had never seen it as brave; I had desperately needed a home. Besides, my mother had wanted me to do it.   
Luckily, the conversation transferred to Clint. The others were very interested in what Natasha had to tell about Nathaniel and how Clint had been working very hard in his home. Though quietness had settled down lately.

‘I think it was brave, too.’ I felt a soft touch on my hand, and to my great surprise, Pietro took it and squeezed it.   
‘No,’ I shook my head in protest, ‘I had no other choice.’   
‘I don’t know about that. You are strong enough to survive on your own.’  
‘But I don’t want to.’  
‘Exactly.’ Pietro looked as if he had proved some kind of point. ‘You needed a family - because everybody needs a family. So, you went out and found a new one.’  
‘I- I guess so.’

We went and talked until deep into the night, until we could see a bright starry sky from the facility. Nobody seemed intent on going to bed, or leaving this little “get together”. First we emptied all the plates and bowls, until there was only a single sausage wrapped pastry left, which I claimed, so I could share it with Pietro, who had really enjoyed them. Later I wondered why I had noticed that.   
Finally, I began drifting off. Sluggishly I slid down until I sprawled down, with a big part of my shoulder and back leaning against Pietro’s strong chest.   
‘Are you asleep yet,’ Pietro muttered with his face near my hair. My scalp tingled.    
I looked up, finding he was very close. ‘No,’ answered defensively. Then I yawned.   
For a moment, I wondered at how Pietro’s eyes wouldn’t be out of place between the stars. If I fell asleep now, I would fall asleep underneath my personal stars. This was actually a perfect moment to sleep. A very safe place… A warm place…   
A very comfortable place…


	15. Chapter 15

‘Nat? Natasha?’ This must be twentieth time I called for the assassin; we had agreed upon having a training session, but after waiting for twenty minutes, I went out to find her. I swung the door to the living room open with a grand gesture. ‘Na- Dad?’  
I ran into a scene of Natasha and Clint talking intensely, and stopping when I stumbled to a halt. Obviously, they had been talking about me, or about something which concerned be.   
‘Hey, Alexis,’ my dad greeted me a bit too joyfully. Natasha stepped backwards, as if to remove all evidence of their former conversation.   
‘Dad? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Laura, with your children?’ I had almost added “real”, because that’s how I usually thought about it. At the moment it wasn’t just a dark thought, but also a sincere concern; he’d just had a baby, and he also had two other young children. Laura was a great woman, and I didn’t want her to exhaust herself.   
‘Laura said she could handle it. The children are helping a lot - apart from Nathaniel, of course.’ That answer didn’t clear up why he was here, only how he could be here and not at home.   
‘O-okay.’   
Was there anything more to say? We hadn’t spoken much more than a dozen words since Wanda’s funeral. Now he stood here, for some unknown reason, and was smiling awfully kindly at me.   
‘Don’t you guys think it’s time for lunch?’ At that moment I could have kissed Natasha, my saviour from this moment.   
‘Yes. I’m starving!’ With all the power I had, I tried to sign Natasha how grateful I was.   
She smiled back. ‘Why don’t you get Pietro, Alexis?’  
As soon as she had made the suggestion, I speed walked out of the room.

‘Wow, Alexa, what’s wrong?’ Pietro seemed surprised when he found me in front of his room, a bit panting from sprinting through the hallways.   
‘Oh, nothing… are you coming for lunch?’ Airily I smiled, looking aimlessly through the room.  
‘Alexa?’  
‘Fine!’ I fell backwards on his bed, looking up to the ceiling, pondering all the possible explanations of Clint’s surprising return. I felt the bed sink down when Pietro settled himself at the foot of the bed. ‘It’s my dad - he’s back. And I don’t understand why!’  
‘Your dad? Why does he need a reason?’  
‘What?’ abruptly I came back up, asking a lot from my stomach muscles. ‘He has a wife and kids-’  
Smiling, Pietro put a finger on my lips, silencing my words. ‘You’re also his kid.’  
I swatted his hand aside. ‘Sort of, but-’ I was cut off again.  
‘Not sort of, you are.’ He shook his head. ‘Though let’s get to lunch - they’ll be wondering why we haven’t come yet.’  
I groaned.  
‘I can carry you; we’d be there in a second?’ Pietro suggested, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.   
‘NO! No, no!’ Hastily I jumped off the bed, creating a vast distance between me and Pietro. ‘Better don’t, I already feel sick enough.’

***

 _‘Hey…’_  
I looked up from my book. It was “my father”. I almost shivered from the weirdness of that idea; I had always thought I would never have a dad, and had accepted that a very long time ago. My mum had given birth to me, and raised me, fed me, and taken care of me. The mysterious shadow giving the seed to create me seemed replaceable. Until now. Right now, he leaned against the doorframe only a few feet away.   
‘Hey…’   
Clint shuffled a couple of inches, playing with the bow in his hands. His nervous fingers let it dance a dangerous jingle, bending and stretching it as he pushed it against the floor. Following the laws of nature, it bounced up again. 'So, you like Doyle’s work?’ His head gave a weird twitch to indicate the book.   
Automatically I closed it. The pages made an astonishing amount of noise as they came together. 'Yeah, quite a fan.’   
'Cool.’ Now the string made little “pling” and “plong” sounds as if he was playing a rather pathetic harp. Somehow the off-key notes made the silence even louder. I wished there were others in the room to have a loud conversation. Maybe Mr Stark - apart from the fact I had admired him for a long time, I was also under the impression he would make a great candidate to fill these conversational gaps.  
‘I-ehr- Nat said-’ never had I seen a professional and skilled agent stumble so badly, even if it was only over his own words. ‘We haven’t really talked, yet, have we?’  
‘I suppose not.’ Mostly because I have no idea how to talk to you, or what about, I thought.   
‘So… can I come in?’  
‘Sure,’ I hastily moved a bit to the side, to make room for Clint to sit down. After he’d had some struggles with bow-placement, he decided to just shove it away with his foot.   
‘I-was-wondering,’ he began, after the weapon had stopped waggling. ‘Do you have any plans for the future?’   
‘Oh.’ I bit my lip. Of course, he wanted to know if he could send me somewhere. ‘God, I don’t know. I still have some high school to attend - though we- uhm, I always, uhm,’ I blinked rapidly, looking down. It was difficult talking about this. My future was always something my mum and I liked to talk about. She had the greatest plans for me. Besides that, it was rather personal, and, let’s face it, this guy was practically a stranger to me. ‘I have been thinking a while about joining the police, you know…’   
Apparently Clint noticed how uncomfortable the subject made me, so he moved on. ‘Well, you’ve still got time to figure it out. If there’s anything you need to help do that, we’ve got a lot of people with connections here, so… just let me know, okay?’  
‘Okay.’ Time. It seemed to have slowed down excessively the last five minutes.   
Also affected by the awkwardness, Clint started to inspect my room. ‘I see you have all his works - Doyle’s, I mean.’ He nodded toward a bookcase, stacked with books by the same author who’d written the novel in my hand, and some others masterpieces of different people but of the same genre. On a special shelf stood an old faded box containing the board game Clue. My mum had given it to me a long, long time ago.   
‘Yes, I like the idea of being a detective,’ I admitted.   
‘It doesn’t have to be just the idea,’ Clint noted. ‘If you really want it, you can become one.’   
‘Maybe.’ It was a vague answer, because truth be told, I didn’t really believe it anymore. Not now I had moved to a complete different city, with totally different people.   
‘Just think about it,’ Clint told me encouragingly. He stood up again, plucked the bow from the ground and smiled kindly. ‘There is a lot more possible than you might think.’  
I watched as he existed the room. After he’d left, I shook my head.   
‘Yeah, I noticed.’

***

I was staring at the vial of poison, wondering how I had gotten here. I reached out, and took the knife, rope, and bat from the box, and dispersed them in the swimming pool.   
How had Clint remembered I liked Clue? Had he guessed, or had he remembered the box in my room? Perhaps Natasha told him.

‘I’m warning you,’ Pietro said, breaking an awkward silence, ‘I am not going to be good at this.’  
‘O, you just have to learn the logic, then it isn’t that difficult,’ I said, distributing pens and paper. ‘If you write it all down, and then cross out everything that isn’t possible…’  
While explaining the game, I tried to move my gaze across the table, while simultaneously avoiding any eye contact. When we began, I just tried to concentrate on playing the game. No such luck, however. I had developed such a “talent” for this game, that I didn’t really have to focus as the dices rolled and the players moved.   
My brains went on a journey to find the real reason I felt so uncomfortable in Clint’s presence. Eventually I figured it was at least partly due to his original disapproval of Pietro, which had turned into him being overly protective during and after the fight with Ultron. Now, however, I didn’t know how he felt towards him, or towards me, and where we stood. Had we gone back to square one because we hadn’t seen each other for several months?

Pietro firmly placed his blue pawn on the blue colours of the pool. ‘All right,’ he chewed his lip, scanning his piece of paper with intense concentration. He would probably guess the right place and weapon, but he was wrong about the killer. I coughed softly, playing with my green pawn, tapping it airily against the board. For a split-second Pietro’s eyes met mine. I raised my eyebrows slightly - he shook his head - I raised my eyebrows a bit more, frowned, looked down. ‘Okay…’ he cleared his throat. ‘I think it was in the dining room, with a… trophy… by…’ he hesitated a very long time. ‘By… Reverend Green.’ He decided.  
He put away his own paper, and retrieved the cards from the small yellow enveloped in the middle. He checked them.   
‘And?’ Natasha asked. ‘Were you correct?’  
Pietro hesitated a bit more.   
‘It’s a yes or no answer,’ I teased, laying down the green pawn, knowing he was right.   
He gave an awkward shrug. ‘Yeah, I was right.’

Everybody helped clearing the table and returning all the game’s pieces to the box. I wasn’t sure if I saw it correctly, but it thought I saw Clint check my paper, frowning slightly as he did so. On the other hand, he could have been thinking about something else entirely; hell, he had an infant at home, with his wife and other two little children.   
Eventually Pietro seemed to want to talk to me, and he was probably about to ask me about more than just why I had let him win. Not wanting to discuss the topic, I quickly asked Natasha if we could practise instantly. After she’d agreed, I left Clint and Pietro standing awkwardly in the living room.


	16. Chapter 16

Clint put an unbelievably amount of effort into conversing with me; he arranged a lot of training sessions, giving himself the opportunity to praise me on how I had improved since we’d last trained together. During dinner he also tried to get me to talk, though in my astonishment I didn’t help him much with my short answers.   
Eventually we came to the revelation of his return. Again, it was during dinner. When Clint put down his utensils and looked at me importantly, I felt a nervous tinkle in my stomach.   
‘Alexis,’ he began, ‘a while back you told me your dream to become a detective, so I’ve asked around, and if you want to, you can enrol next season.’  
‘What?’ Panicking I immediately glanced back at Natasha, who was smiling wearily. Then I looked at Pietro, who had an incredibly mixed, wavering smile. ‘Next season, I don’t know if…’  
‘You don’t have to decide now,’ Clint added hastily. ‘In two weeks, there’s a kind of introduction, so you’ll get to know everyone, and the program. Tony says you can stay with him as long as necessary.’  
New York. Academy. Detective. The words spun around in my head. I’d have to leave the Avengers, this place, which had become my home, right? I loved this place - and the people in it.   
‘I’m sorry dad, I don’t know if I can go…’ I said quietly.   
Clint retained his smile, but I could see it didn’t sit well with him. ‘It’s okay,’ he reassured me. ‘Any time you change your mind, just tell me.’  
I nodded glumly. ‘Sure. I will.’

***

 _“The rebuild of one of the world’s biggest cities has finally begun. After the horrifying attack on New York City, Tony Stark has started a foundation to help it be restored, and for all the victims. Today, mayor…”_  
Thin stripes stole the newscaster’s voice. She didn’t stop moving her mouth, telling everybody about this “wonderful” news. I snorted internally; not so long ago that same woman had called Tony Stark some politically correct unflattering names. However, now he started to “give out” money, people liked him again. Typical. Because when people see other people who don’t really fit into one of their “boxes”, they instantly dislike them. Though when their wallets are made a bit heavier, they can suddenly spare some nice words.   
Taking a swig from the awful cup of machine coffee, I propelled a piece of cucumber at the television screen. It stuck exactly where I wanted it: on the nose of the annoying woman. The green vegetable suited her better than the Iron Man pin she had clipped to her blouse. 

_Then I changed the channel a couple of times, already having lost the hope of finding a reasonable station. In the end, I just turned it off. Nobody complained, because nobody in the waiting room watched the screens; these people had lived the attack, or had at least been incredibly close. Those were also the lucky people; they were all here for people that had been hurt, but not hurt enough to need immediate attention in the nearest hospital. This particular hospital lay outside of the big apple, only close enough for the patients without life-threatening injuries.  
Mum had gone here because she knew one of the doctors from a long time ago. She was one of those people who always knew everyone everywhere, because she didn’t forget a face or name. Her personality was sunny and warm, so people didn’t mind being recognised, even if it was from first grade. _

_With one simple tap, I opened my long-time favourite forum: Super Sightings. For a long time, this had been dedicated to sightings of unusual people with interesting abilities. “Interesting” ranged from amazing strength to people who claimed to have x-ray vision, but turned out to be mere perverts. Let’s also not forget the occasional Captain America memorial, or advertisement for super expensive trading cards._  
This all changed in 2008. One day it was a page long report about some guy who could pull a car with hooks in his skin (and yes, this was a world record), the following day it was flushed with dozens of vague pictures of a flying metal man. That’s when I discovered the site.  
At the time, I hadn’t had a smart phone so I made do with an old computer in the library, until mum got one at home; this way her boss could force her to continue working at home. You know, with one of those monitors you could fix by hitting. Those were the days - nowadays one fall is enough to destroy your phone. Luckily for me my reflexes when catching my phone are better than a cat’s saving its own life.

_On days like this, the forum was one of the only things keeping me going. It was a place where being different was appreciated, where the people shared their admiration for people who devoted so much of their time to protecting others.  
The little girl’s dream of seeing myself flying in a cape or kicking some evil guy’s but I had left behind, but that pigtailed girl sometimes got the best of me when I saw the images of these real-life superheroes. How badly I wished some hero could fly through the window and take me and my mum to some Island where I could take care of her, and where the fresh wind alone would heal her._

***

Late at night I studied the moon, glaring up to its enormous face. I desperately wanted to speak to it, but the moon wouldn’t say anything back. Then I decided to consult the only person I thought could be objective in this issue: Natasha.

Softly I knocked on her door, not wanting to wake up anyone else.   
‘Sorry,’ I said immediately after she opened the door, her hair all tangled up in a red mess. Her eyes looked awake, though. At least, a lot more than mine would have done.  
‘Hey, Alexis. It’s okay. Come in.’ She took my hand, and made me sit down on her bed. I pulled up my legs so my feet weren’t as cold; I had forgotten to put on my night slippers.   
Natasha took place next to me, her legs crossed, her attention fully aimed at me. ‘It’s the academy, isn’t it?’ she asked warmly.   
I nodded. ‘What do you think I should do?’  
‘No, Alexis,’ she shook her head. ‘That’s your problem. You shouldn’t stay because of somebody, and you shouldn’t go because someone wants you to. Just do whatever you feel like doing.’  
‘But I don’t know what I want!’ I exclaimed, raising my arms into the air in a frustrated gesture. ‘I haven’t thought about going for a very long time - though I have wanted it since… since… since I can remember. But when I wanted it, I didn’t think I would ever get a better option, and now…’ I squeezed my hands together, watching as my knuckles whitened. ‘Is this better?’ I wondered.   
Natasha shrugged. ‘That’s up to you, Alexis. It’s all up to you.’


	17. Chapter 17

Everyone was acting weirdly the following days. Clint wouldn’t really look at me, though neither would Pietro. Natasha was extremely nice, while she only spoke to Clint in a very forced manner. I wished I had never told anybody how I felt.   
Eventually, I’d had enough, and really wanted to bring things back to normal, so I asked Pietro if he might be interested in training, maybe some hand-to-hand combat; it had been quite a while since we’d done so. Instead of the enthusiastic response I usually got, he flinched the moment I began speaking to him.   
‘No, I- don’t. Sorry, Alexa- Alexis,’ a shudder went down my spine when he correctly used my name.   
‘Okay. No problem.’ I shrugged, pretending it didn’t bother me. I readied myself to turn away.   
‘Actually, Alexis,’ I felt Pietro’s hand on my arm to stop me. He retracted it faster than I had time to look at it. ‘I’ve been wanting to speak to you.’  
‘Uhm, okay?’ I sat down opposite him.   
Pietro locked his hands, not looking me in the face. ‘I think we should- I think we should keep a distance.’   
My heart froze. ‘Distance…?’ I repeated weakly.   
‘Yes. It might be best for both of us.’ He articulated every word very carefully. ‘You go your way - maybe you’ll even go to that academy,’ he suggested my departure as if it only were a quick walk, ‘and I’ll- I’ll figure out what I’m gonna do.’  
‘Oh.’ My mouth stood half open - I closed it quickly. ‘Yeah, sure. Of course. No, yeah, I get it.’ I rose quickly, feeling a fire starting in my throat. ‘Sure. Sorry, to bother you.’  

***

 _Clint took down another three robots. I shot down one. Its head made a satisfying thump when it smashed into the ground. Adrenaline coursed through me, sharpening my vision, drowning out the screams in the background. All I knew was the fight around me, the sound of evil robots out to kill us. Every time one of those bots came down, was ripped apart or squashed, my heart leaped in anxious excitement._  
‘ALEXIS!’ Clint called my name a split second before his weight hit me. He pushed me into an abandoned building as rouble came down. We huddled down, trying to regain our breath.   
‘You okay?’ Clint looked me up and down. I nodded, though my heart was still racing faster than Pietro. His eyes wandered to the shadows behind me. I turned around, curious as to what is was.   
It took a while for me to realise Wanda was also huddled against the wall, her face in her hands. Behind me Clint shifted, moving around me to approach the girl. Wanda looked up when she heard my father’s footsteps. ‘How could I let this happen?’ she asked no one in particular.   
Clint’s face softened. ‘Hey, you okay?’   
Wanda shook her head, shooing away the idea of being okay. ‘This is all our fault…’   
Clint was next to her now. He crouched down. ‘Look at me,’ he ordered the shaking girl. I noticed how young she seemed in this moment. All the fighting spirit she had harboured when we’d met had gone. Along with her confidence.   
‘It’s your fault, it’s everyone’s fault, who cares. Are you up for this? Are you? Look, I just need to know, cause the city is flying, we’re fighting an army of robots, and I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense.’ Even to my father’s voice there was a hint of humorous hysteria - I completely understood; it was all too much, too strange. ‘But I’m going back out there because it’s my job. Okay? And I can’t do my job and babysit. It doesn’t matter what you did, or what you were. If you go out there, you fight, and you fight to kill. Stay in here, you’re good, I’ll send your brother to come find you. But if you step out that door, you are an Avenger.’   
A warm feeling spread in my chest. The petty side of me envied Wanda for receiving this speech. Everything inside me wanted to sprint through that door. Wanda, however, only looked at him with her wide open.  
‘All right, good chat.’ He got up and reached behind him to pull an arrow from the quiver, readying it on his bow. Then he returned his attention to me. ‘You sure you’re okay?’  
I nodded. ‘I’ll come after you, I just-’ I looked back at Wanda. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’  
Clint nodded, uncertainty in his eyes, as if he wanted to protest, but thought better of it.   
Before he stepped into the sunlight, he shook his head, lifted his bow, and muttered to himself, ‘Yeah, the city is flying.’ Then he let loose a rain of arrows, like an angry, fully clad cupid.

 _Wanda was looking at me when I turned back around. Her strange eyes pierced me like she was reading my mind, despite the distance between us. It disconcerted me - I didn’t like the idea of someone in my head. According to the stories I’d heard about my dad, it was something that ran in the family._  
‘Why don’t you go? I know you want to.’  
I shuddered, remembering that time she had intruded my mind. ‘I’ll be going, but I wanted to talk to you first.’  
She shook her head. ‘You are wasting your time. I’m not a warrior - or an Avenger.’  
‘Neither am I!’ she gave me a strange look when I said - or rather, exclaimed - that. ‘But you are a fighter! Because these are your people, Wanda. This is your city, your country. Isn’t that why Pietro is buzzing around, knocking down homicidal robots like bowling pins?’  
‘Yes…’ she didn’t seem entirely convinced yet. Though her hands weren’t shaking anymore, and her head lifted a bit.   
‘Of course it is! And you heard my father: both of us are shooting arrows, arrows! It makes no fricking sense at all, but we fight. You can move stuff with your mind! You don’t have to be a warrior to be a hero, not even a soldier! You just have to try!’ I reached out my hand. For a heartbeat, Wanda only stared at it. Then she took it, and let me pull her up.   
‘I still don’t know if-’ she began. I cut her off rather rudely.   
‘I know. I’ll be going now, and you can decide what you’ll do. Like my father said, if you don’t come, we’ll send Pietro to collect you and bring you to safety. Whether you come or not, good luck.’  
I gave her my kindest smile before I left. I knew I had convinced her, even though she didn’t want to admit it. Bringing up the love for her country had done the trick, re-awakening the fire that had glowed softly inside her.   
She would join us in battle, not knowing following me would mean her own undoing. 

***

I knew it. I’d always known it - he wasn’t able to forget how I killed his sister. How I was the one responsible for her death.   
I grabbed my bow, and an arrow, and tried to find something to aim at. Perhaps one of the punch balls hanging from the ceiling. Hopefully it would break, spilling its guts all across the floor.   
No. No arrow. Arrows were part of the “Avengers fantasies” I had let myself live for too long. Apparently nobody wanted me here; Pietro had told me kindly to “get lost”, and Clint had come back to get me going.   
The bow shook as I raised it high above my head, ready to break it in half. No, I couldn’t. I should give it back to Tony; I wouldn’t break his stuff. He’d put time into making it - especially for me. For my pleasure. It would be great timing; I would be going to New York soon. I stared at the bow.   
This was exactly why I always kept a distance. I used to remind myself not to get too attached to people, not since I knew my mother would not make it. But I had allowed myself to care again - had I not learnt from the devastation of my mother’s death?   
Distance would probably be best. Distance between me and this pain. And I had an opportunity to do just that, while also realising the dream my mum wanted me to achieve.


	18. Chapter 18

I was so angry. I was downright furious. At myself, for being so stupid, so naive. Had I not learnt anything? Foolish me, thinking I might find a new family with the Avengers. Hoping I could find friends through war…   
Never should I have abandoned my old strategy; keeping distance. I had always done better not emerged in the lives of others, or others emerged in my own life. Hadn’t it not only been stupid, but also inconsiderate? My family had been my mother. It was horrible of me to try to replace her, just so I would feel better.   
I flung some clothing into a bag, and squished them together to close the zipper. After an intense fight, I won, almost breaking it. Then I took three of my favourite books, and stashed those in my backpack. Lastly, I took a shower, so I could change into something clean afterwards.

***

 _‘Miss Kane? Miss Kane?’_  
My head slipped off my own shoulder, and my mouth snapped shut. I gasped and grabbed the arms of the waiting room chair.   
A flustered nurse rounded the corner. ‘Miss Kane?’ she seemed slightly relieved when she’d caught my attention. ‘Your mother, she wants to see you.’  
The first two words were enough. They had never fetched me so feverish before. Never. And the nurses’ face didn’t bode well. As quickly I could I scrambled upright, bumping my foot against the coffee table fully loaded with months old magazines. An old copy of people’s magazine, ornate with the face of some kind “handsome” actor. Maybe he was a singer, I didn’t know. I didn’t really follow that kind of news – unless, of course, it involved “my” department of cinema and TV. 

_I almost slammed into the door post. Regardless of the sound, my mum didn’t look up. ‘Mum? Mum!?’ I squealed, grasping her hand as soon as I stood next to her bed. ‘Mum!’_  
Like butterfly wings her eyelids fluttered, revealing her bloodshot eyes.   
‘Lexy?’ her lips trembled. With more effort than it should cost her, her mouth formed something of a smile.   
‘Yes, mum. Yes! It’s me!’ My smile was even shakier than that of my mother. The tears had already been formed in my eyes when I was running. Now they dripped down my cheeks. One salty drop reached my lips, giving me a salty taste.   
‘Be good, Lexy. Be good.’ Her hand contracted. It may have been an involuntary muscle contraction, or she tried to squeeze my hand.   
‘I will be, mum. I will be. Please, mum, stay with me. Please!’ A deafening, ringing beep tortured my ears, stabbing my heart with its high-pitched spear. ‘Please…’  
I lost all breath when the doctors and nurses rushed to the machines, to my mother. Controllably they tried all the backup plans they had – but with an air of hopelessness. Meanwhile I backed myself up against the wall, trying to distance myself from the turmoil. That’s where I had always felt more comfortable; outside the action. Looking from a distance, where I could observe, without being overcome by all the mayhem.   
Sadly, today I couldn’t distance myself. It was too late for that. Years before I had engulfed myself in this downfall. So, for years I had prepared myself for the landing. Though it was a barely controlled crash.

***

I took the letter from the pocket of my worn jeans. It had been a long time since I’d read it. Now I did it again, my eyes got stuck on the sentence about following my dreams. I remembered how badly she had wanted me to pursue my dream of becoming a detective - and now she was dead, I had dropped it. I had gotten the chance to follow it once more, and I had rejected it.

‘Are you sure about this, Alexis?’ Natasha frowned as she took over the bag I was carrying, and put it in the trunk of the car she would be using to get me to New York.   
‘Yes, very sure,’ I said with an extreme lack of certainty. ‘Let’s go!’   
Natasha gave me another incredulous look, shook her head slightly and muttered something in Russian. I wasn’t keen on finding out what it meant.   
When the car left the facilities’ grounds I hadn’t looked back once.


	19. Chapter 19

Early in the morning I packed my backpack, and roamed the hallways of Stark Tower when I noticed I still had some time left. My heart ached as I walked past my bow; Tony had left it in the living room after I had given it back. He’d been surprised when I turned up - apparently he hadn’t thought I would be coming, and especially not while also returning my bow.  
‘I thought you liked it?’ he said, while raising an eyebrow.   
‘I did, very much,’ I reassured him quickly. ‘But a cop shouldn’t be walking around with it.’   
‘Right…’ Then he put it on the table, where it had lain since.

All the participants were checked outside the gates of the academy on weapons and what not, whereupon we were given security cards telling everyone we were supposed to be there. It was quite a big group of exited looking teenagers, all here to experience the first bits of their future lives. I felt incredibly disconnected.   
They arranged us in groups by our last name, assigning us a “personal” guide. I tried to concentrate on what our guide was saying - she was a stern looking woman who definitely gave off the vibe she caught criminals for a living - but my attentions deviated to a small button on a girl’s backpack in front of me. It was a small round button, with red and white circles and star in the middle: Captain America’s shield. It glittered annoyingly in the sun, making it impossible to ignore it.   
Damn it. Couldn’t it be made a little bit easier for one time? Now I was staring angrily at my tour guide, hoping she wouldn’t think I was mad at her, and she would address me.   
While the woman went on, and on, and on, and on, my brains started replaying every time I had seen that metal disk fly. It never seemed to completely obey the laws of nature, defying what you would think was possible. But maybe that was just a requirement to belong to the team.

***

 _After Laura had showed me the room Natasha and I would be sharing, I went outside and sat on the porch. From there I had the most amazing view of the beautiful scenery, plus a view with sound of Tony and Steve, apparently engulfed in some sort of ego-fight with woodchopping, while I stayed hidden inside the shadows. The captain and the genius were quarrelling about the way the team was shaking after the mind-warping attack._  
‘You know Ultron is trying to tear us apart, right?’ Tony still sounded hostile. I saw him glare at Steve’s much bigger pile of chopped wood.   
Steve didn’t sound any friendlier when he answered. ‘Well I guess you’d know. Whether you tell us is a bit of a question.’ 

_They went on to quarrel like that until Steve ripped apart a piece of tree like it was a piece of paper, and Laura asked Tony to fix her tractor inside the big shed. When she walked past, she smiled kindly, and put her hand softly on my shoulder before she went in again._  
When Tony had accepted and left, I rose, and joined Steve. He greeted me with a much warmer tone than he had used on Tony, something I was happy about.  
I wrapped my hand around the axe Tony had left, and swung it up and down to feel how it was balanced. ‘You think Tony would mind if I add to his pile?’   
Steve gave me a small grin. ‘As long as you don’t tell anyone.’  
‘Great.’ I swung the axe high above my head, and let it come down with the force of gravity and my own. Surprisingly, the block of wood split down the middle, both parts falling to the ground.   
Steve looked up in surprise. ‘That was a mean swing. Care to elaborate?’   
I glanced back at the farm, where Clint was playing with his kids, a carefree smile on his face I wasn’t familiar with. ‘Not really. I just want to say that Tony is a good guy, and so are you. You really shouldn’t help Ultron by projecting your frustrations onto each other - or we’ll all go to hell.’  
The Captain put down his axe for a moment, and gave me a piercing look. ‘I know you’re right… He just needs to start realising what the consequences of his actions are. Really, he reminds me of his dad.’  
‘He is a genius,’ I acknowledged. ‘He gave me this awesome bow, with all these settings…’ I smiled as the younger me had done when he had first given it to me. Never had my eyes come closer to popping out. My mouth hadn’t been able to keep up with all the “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it had to endure.   
‘I remember,’ Steve smiled too, and, if I wasn’t mistaking, it was even a bit endeared. ‘And Tony does too. We usually don’t show that much gratitude towards his inventions - I guess we take his “genius” for granted.’ He picked up the axe again and gave me a stern glance. ‘But don’t tell him I said that.’   
With my hand I crossed my heart. ‘Promise. You can bro-hug it out yourself.’   
Steve shook his head and threw another two pieces of recently split wood onto his pile. ‘We’ve got a complicated family, don’t we?’ 

_Family. I shrugged, and looked back at Clint. He seemed distracted now, even though he was still watching his children play. A slight crease had formed between his eyebrows. That was a family, wasn’t it? Parents who worried about their kids? How could a team of a hundred-year-old super soldier, a genius billionaire, a genius with anger issues, a demigod, a Russian ex-assassin, a secret agent and his daughter be a family?_  
When I looked back at the Captain, he couldn’t hide his worried glance fast enough. ‘If you can’t hold up, no one will judge you, you know. If you want, you can stay here as we-’  
‘No!’ I interrupted him hastily. ‘I can handle it, Steve, don’t worry!’   
Steve gave me a look I almost could interpret as admiring. Then his gaze shifted to something behind me. His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. ‘Look who we have there…’

***

I stopped dead in my tracks. Suddenly, after reliving that seemingly insignificant moment, it struck me; Steve had been right. The Avengers were a family. It didn’t have to be two parents and a couple children to call it that. It wasn’t about standard definitions, because none of us was standard or ordinary. Most people would call us weirdos, freaks. But we were freaks that belong together.

People complained indignantly as I worked myself through the crowd that was going in one direction. Except for me, I went against the current.   
Frantically, I looked around. I needed to get back to Tony’s place, where I could get my stuff, and head back home - my real home. I let out a little yelp of happiness when I saw a bus nearing the bus stop going towards NYC. I ran faster than ever, gasping when I worked myself through the doors of the bus. It went so slow as it drove up to the city, passing all the cars of people going places, probably work or home. But I could clearly see all of them, while they should be whizzing past. Finally I could see the giant illuminated letters spelling out Tony’s last name, and I sprinted towards them as quickly as I could.

Tony was sitting in the living room, not doing anything in particular, just playing some crappy game on his phone, when I stormed in.   
‘I know I shouldn’t be here, Tony - and I’m very grateful you let me stay he-’ my mouth shut when Tony handed me my bow.   
‘What was taking you so long?’   
‘I-.’ Then I smiled thankfully. ‘I gotta go. I’m just gonna grab my stuff now.’  
‘Then let me help you.’  
Together we stuffed all the stuff I had taken from my bag back in, speeding through my temporary bedroom until we stood back outside.   
‘Thank you so much, Tony.’  
Tony shook his head. ‘No problem, kiddo. That’s what family’s for. Here.’ He threw something at me; it was a pair of shiny keys, car keys. ‘It’s the red one. O, and please, don’t get yourself a ticket.’  
He groaned as I gave him an overly enthusiastic hug before sprinting off to his garage.

It was extremely difficult to not go far beyond the speed limit, but the car seemed to move incredibly slowly. Now I did have time to appreciate Tony had given me the keys to my favourite of all his cars. I also had time to feel nervous as I rolled up to the facility.   
Then I bit my lip, and determined I wouldn’t apologise; I wouldn’t bother them, but I would live there, because it was my home.


	20. Chapter 20

‘She didn’t want to go, Clint! She wanted to stay here!’  
‘What?! She told me herself she dreamed of going to the academy!’  
‘Yes, dreamed! Past tense. She-’  
The voices quit as I walked in. Both Natasha and Clint were slightly flustered in the face. They apparently were having a very heated conversation - about me.   
‘Alexis?’ Clint watched me enter with a lot of confusion on his face. ‘What are you doing here?’  
‘Uhm… hi, dad…’ there was a strong urge to back off and leave the tension filling the room behind me.   
‘Right. You two are going to talk this out, really talk this out.’ Natasha still sounded irritated, but more towards Clint than me, because she put a soft hand on my arm when she moved past me. ‘Good to have you back, Alexis.’

Do not apologise. You don’t have to apologise. I kept trying to restrain myself from saying sorry; I had all the right to be here.   
‘All right,’ Clint seemed tired now. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head slightly. ‘Why are you back, Alexis?’  
I took a deep breath. ‘I told myself I wouldn’t apologise. Even though I feel like I’m about to. I want to stay here, dad. I’m sorry if you don’t want that.’ I grimaced when I apologised after all.   
Clint shook his head. ‘I don’t get it. Is it that boy? I told him…’ his voice died away.   
‘You told him what? What did you tell him?’ my voice became shrill. ‘You told him to tell me to get lost? So, it’s true? You don’t want me here?’ To my great annoyance and embarrassment, my eyes had started producing tears. I balled my hands into fists, afraid I might otherwise lash out to the decorations.   
‘What? No! I didn’t… that’s not why…’ Clint stared at me hopelessly, as if he just didn’t understand what I was saying.   
‘You could have just said that! I get it! But don’t try to “subtly” get rid of me!’ Why did I have to cry? I never cried. Angrily I swiped away the small drops of embarrassment.    
‘Alexis! You don’t understand!’  
‘No, no I don’t,’ I muttered listlessly. ‘I really don’t understand anything anymore.’ I looked away. I already started regretting coming back - and then I regretted regretting. Why couldn’t I just know what I wanted; have only one feeling at the time.  
‘Lex…’ gentle footsteps approached me. Then two strong arms wrapped around me, engulfing me in a warm embrace. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I thought you wanted this. I thought I had made you step off your way towards your dream. It just never occurred to me how you found a family here.’  
‘Neither did I,’ I said with a quivering voice, weak from the emotions. I took a deep breath to steady myself. My next words sounded a lot clearer. ‘I never thought I would find another family again - I just thought everybody agreed to letting me stay here because they felt sorry for me. Now I know it’s because I want to fight bad guys. And of course, because I’m slightly crazy.’  
Clint chuckled. ‘Yes, that’s part of the job.’

We held on to each other for a while. He told me about guilt, how he felt like he’d abandoned me for so many years, even though he hadn’t even known about me. How he had wanted to make this up to me by providing me with what he thought was a way to reach my dreams. I told him about doubt, how I always kept my distance, afraid to get hurt, or to hurt somebody else. How I had feared I would ruin the perfect family he had back at the farm.   
He said sorry, I said thank you.   
There was this moment, when we stepped back and I looked at his grin, I realised we did look alike. Something inside me clicked, finally fully accepting the truth; this was my dad. My real dad. He worried about me. He wanted the best for me, looked out for me.   
He was everything I never knew I needed.


	21. Chapter 21

Perhaps most people would expect everything to go back to normal once Clint and I had settled our differences. Alas, they didn’t. Some things were better than before; my relation with Clint was better than ever and still improving, and he had shown me some cool new tricks with his bow. He had even asked me to come over for Christmas this year, on behalf of Laura. It turned out it was her who had told Clint to come visit me - after she’d had some phone calls with Natasha. At the idea of celebrating Christmas in a real home my heart had almost exploded, while my enthusiasm couldn’t even be dampened by the idea of the slight awkwardness.

On the other hand, there was Pietro. He had seemed genuinely happy that Clint and I had made up and I seemed happier, but his attempts to slowly approach me hadn’t worked out very well; mostly because I had actually been hurt by his words. There still existed this wound, that I couldn’t close.   
Clint had asked if he should talk to Pietro - he was more than willing. I told him not to; this was something which wouldn’t be fixed by a well-intentioned clarification talk. “Hey, Pietro. Yeah, remember I told you to keep away from my daughter? Well, turns out that’s not necessary anymore. What’d you say? She still feels hurt? Gosh… sorry dude. I can’t fix that.”  
And neither could I. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to revive the wonderful… friendship (had it been a friendship? I never really had friends, so I didn’t really know if that was the proper term), contrary, I really wanted it back. But I had no idea how to fix the mess we’d made.

Considering this big, emotional mumbo-jumbo, I hadn’t expected Pietro to do much to clear things up - not because he was too cowardice to try, just because I didn’t think he would feel the need to do too much effort to try to restore it. So, imagine my surprise, when he stepped up to me, and began what sounded like a pre-prepared speech.

He came up to me as I was - again - reading one of my books, curled up on the sofa. There was a mug of tea beside me, and a plate of cookies Natasha had made for me right next to it. The lovely smell coming off it was a nice touch to the experience of solving murders in a fantasy world.   
‘Alexis, could I please have your attention? Please?’  
A rough hand turned my inners upside down. Though determined to keep my emotions in check, I slowly lay a bookmark between the pages, and put away the book. Then I looked up to Pietro. ‘Sure.’  
‘Great. Thank you.’ He wrung his hands, and took seat on the most distanced corner of the sofa. My expression was fine tuned to kindly interested, but slightly reserved.   
‘Alexis…’ he didn’t know where to start. As I didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, I couldn’t help him either, though I gave him an encouraging nod and smile.   
‘Yes, Pietro?’  
‘I- I have said some things…’  
‘You’ve said many things,’ I teased him. ‘Though not recently.’  
Guiltily, he looked down. ‘I know. I’m sorry. But that’s why I’m here. We’ve had some… trouble with… defining our… relationship, I think.’ For a moment he looked me in the eyes, instead of looking vaguely in the directing of my face.   
‘I think that might me correct,’ I agreed. It earned me a small, insecure smile.   
I was yet again amazed at how shy and insecure Pietro could be compared to his “initial state” when I first met him. Again, I felt the guilt on my shoulders.   
‘And that’s why I’m asking you,’ he took a deep breath, and some of his confidence returned, ‘if you want to go on a date with me.’  
My stomach twisted. I instinctively tried to buy myself some more time. ‘You sure you want to ask me? I’m not really a datable person.’  
I guess the fact that he wasn’t instantly rejected gave him even more courage.   
‘I thought you liked challenges? If you have patience, you might even be very good at it.’  
‘Oh,’ I grinned, still a strange, bubbly feeling in my stomach, ‘I see how it is. You probably think you are great at it, don’t you?’   
Pietro smirked. ‘Not really. But I can learn too.’  
I shook my head. ‘Really Maximoff, I can’t believe I am doing this.’  
‘So, that’s a yes?’  
The hopeful glow made me feel warm. ‘I guess it is.’


	22. Chapter 22

After Pietro shuffled awkwardly out of the room - oh, who am I kidding? Of course he was gone within a blink - I panicked. What had I gotten myself into? What had happened to my “keep a distance” policy? O, right, I’d decided to let people close. Okay. Help. What to do?  
Natasha, I decided. She might know what to do.

‘Natasha! Natasha!’   
I grasped her by the wrist and forcefully pulled her into my room. She didn’t seem offended at all by my rude behaviour, but smiled instead after I had told her my story.   
‘You don’t know how happy I am you accepted, Alexis.’ Actually, I did know; I could tell from her broad grin.   
‘So… you think I did right saying yes?’  
‘Certainly.’  
Elated I hugged her, and I felt a bond like a big sister, or even a kind of mum… she embraced me, too. Then she got up, and opened my wardrobe.   
‘If you want to go to Narnia, I’m quite certain my closet is useless.’  
She pulled out a handful of hangers, with many different tops and shirts draped over them. She told me to stand up and look at my reflection in the mirror as she held the clothes in front of me. I asked her whether I should wear a dress, and she told me I should only wear clothing I felt comfortable in.  
‘Well, that would be my pj’s,’ I concluded.   
‘Apart from your pyjamas. Here, what about this?’  
Eventually we decided on a wavy black top with subtle silver glitters, a deep red jacket, and simple, black jeans. Natasha brushed my hair into a thick, smooth curtain of dark blond hair, and I borrowed some of her mascara and lip gloss. I glanced at the rest of the makeup, and decided I wasn’t courageous enough for that.

The moment I stepped into the restaurant Pietro had asked me to come to (he’d offered to bring me, but I thought a moment of thoughtful solitude would be good) I knew this was absolutely not something for us.   
‘Hey.’ Pietro appeared in view. He wore a tuxedo - where he’d gotten it, I had no idea. It suited him well, though.   
‘Hey. Nice suit.’ I couldn’t help but grin. Fortunately, Pietro grinned back.   
He brought me to a table in the back, dimly lit, except for a tall, slightly dripping candle, which was burning happily. Pietro helped me sit down, which was a nice gesture, but very unlike him. He sat down opposite me, and together we waited for the waiter to arrive.   
The menu was a nice way to hide my face, and to peak over the edge to see Pietro do the same. When our eyes met, I chortled. ‘So… know what you’re gonna order yet?’  
‘Nope.’ Pietro pulled his fingers through his hair, messing up the reasonably neat hairdo he’d welcomed me with. ‘Half of these I don’t even know what they mean…’   
‘Same.’ I scanned the list again. ‘What about this one?’ I pointed to one of the - what I thought were - French names.   
Pietro raised his eyebrows. ‘You randomly picked that one, didn’t you?’  
‘You caught me!’ I dropped the menu on the table. ‘What about we ask the waiter if he has pizza, or something?’  
‘Pizza sounds good.’

When we had finally received our pizza (the waiter had looked at us with a posh “ugh, peasants” face), silence came upon us. Pietro asked some questions about Clint and Natasha, and I told him how Clint hand invited me to come over for Christmas. In return I got a smile, which looked pretty genuinely happy for me.

However, after another silence, Pietro took a deep breath, and got a serious expression. Instinctively, my airiness disappeared, and all the joy I had felt earlier left with it.   
‘Alexis?’   
Not entirely coincidental, I had just shoved a major bite into my mouth, so I was unable to answer (well, without sprinkling Pietro with pieces of cheese). I gestured toward my mouth, making a big deal of chewing.   
Pietro shook his head. ‘This is exactly what I want to talk about.’  
I swallowed. ‘What?’ I asked innocently.   
‘This.’ He needed some time to find the words. ‘Every time we’re having a great time, there comes a time you pull away. When I- “broke up”,’ he smirked, ‘I finally understood why you do it.’  
So, he had noticed. Even though I had tried my best not to show anything - but apparently I wasn’t as good of an actress as I liked to think.   
‘This isn’t about me, is it, Alexis? It’s about… Wanda.’  
I looked away. The napkin turned into a tight ball of cotton. The soft touch of Pietro’s hand started me. I pulled away.   
‘Alexa…’  
‘So… I’m Alexa again?’  
‘You’ve always been Alexa. But you’re not answering, again.’

It was true. I really didn’t want to answer. However, I had stuffed it down for a long enough time. I sighed, unfolded the napkin, folded it again, and started mumbling to it.   
‘It was me, Pietro. I told her to fight. It’s my fault she’s dead.’  
‘Ah…’ Pietro let out an understanding sigh. He leaned back, shaking his head. ‘No, Alexa. Whatever you told her, she wanted to fight anyway. She has always fought for freedom. You may have reminded her of who she was - but she didn’t die because of you.’  
I still didn’t look at him. He took my hand - my heart stopped. He winkled out the crumpled piece of cloth. ‘A special someone once told me Wanda wouldn’t want me to sit and mourn all day. You might want to follow her advice.’  
Those words lifted a weight off my heart; he really didn’t blame me. And if he didn’t blame me, was there anyone who blamed me, apart from myself?  
I smiled despite myself. ‘Sounds like a clever person.’  
Pietro cupped our entangled hands with his other hand. He, also, seemed to have shaken off troubled thoughts. ‘Very clever. And beautiful.’  
This time, my heart exploded. My body got ten times hotter and my mind started to spin. I blushed - something I didn’t do a lot in my life. ‘I’m happy you listened so well to this clever person.’   
‘Don’t forget beautiful,’ Pietro teased.  
‘Oh, shut up.’ I grinned, and finished my last bit of pizza.   
When both of our plates were empty, Pietro summoned the waiter and payed for our delicious, non-authentic pizza’s. Then we left the restaurant, and walked aimlessly for a while.

‘I feel like ice cream,’ Pietro announced suddenly. ‘What about you?’  
I, too, felt like finding an ice cream place, so we set out on a little quest. Eventually we ended up getting a heavily stuffed ice cream cone for both of us. Treat in hand, we strolled back home, through lanes with trees on both sides. Only right above us stars could be spotted.  
We stopped a little distance away from the door, so we would have a bit more privacy, even though I knew that if they wanted to, everyone inside the facility could watch us thanks to the many security cams. For some reason, I had the feeling several people were watching us, and I didn’t care.

‘So…’ Pietro linger on his place, nervously wobbling on his feet. ‘We’re good, aren’t we?’  
‘O, we’re great!’ I grinned. Briefly I stared daringly at a cleverly hidden camera, before I mercilessly grabbed Pietro’s collar, stretched, tiptoed, and pressed my lips onto his. As soon as he’d gotten over the shock, Pietro melted into the kiss.   
Flustered, we let go of each other after what seemed an eternity.   
‘You’ve got really pretty eyes, did you know that?’  
Pietro laughed. ‘Am I not supposed to tell you that?’  
‘Whatever,’ I laughed, and kissed him again.   
I could almost feel the different emotions on the other side of the camera; Natasha’s pleased happiness and Clint’s embarrassed amusement. Almost, if it hadn’t been for the overwhelming relief and happiness I was experiencing myself.   
‘You’re not letting me go, are you?’ Pietro muttered against my lips.   
‘Nope. You’re not getting away from me.’  
Pietro pulled me even closer, one hand in my hair, the other once wrapped around my waist. ‘Good.’


End file.
